


Soul Shine

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dark, F/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU. Humans are incapable of having sex unless they find their “soulmate,” their perfect match. It’s been decades since there's been a documented case of soulmates anywhere, but scientists believe they are finally closing in on the rare “soulmate gene.” Felicity is one of the few who doesn’t put stock in the idea, until Dr. Wells sends her to Starling City.</p><p>(<a href="http://dust2dust34.tumblr.com/tagged/soul-shine">You can check the status of my writing/updating Soul Shine here</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I see you on the blue skies...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geniewithwifi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Arrow or The Flash.
> 
> Holly (geniewithwifi) hit me with an awesome prompt where only soulmates can have sex.
> 
> Title from Your Soul by RHODES, which is the official song for this story, and the lyrics are the chapter titles.
> 
> What do I now about genomes? Absolutely nothing. I took extreme creative liberties aka I made up a lot of stuff.

Once upon a time, the earth was populated with only a handful of humans.

The balance of life was precarious, held together by a single thread that would one day be called the “soulmate gene.” They called it a gene, because that was what scientists searched for - it was the only plausible explanation for why a person could only have sex with one other human being, what the legends liked to call a “soulmate.”

For thousands of years, the human population didn’t grow, it was merely sustained. There were always a few soulmates, a few matches that brought new life to the planet, that helped keep the species alive, but it wasn’t enough to _grow_.

Nobody could explain how it worked. Early tales called it the fertility gods’ wrath on the human race, a punishment for past deeds that were no longer remembered. Others called it the sanctity of the human soul, keeping people pure, that anyone who found a “soulmate” was committing a grave sin against the Natural State - essentially existing as a sexless being, despite the obvious flaw that humans would die out without them.

The human race went through periods where sex was revered, honored, celebrated - when two soulmates found each other, huge celebrations resonated throughout the entire planet, especially when those unions produced multiple children - and they went through other periods where soulmates were hidden, a shameful collaboration that was used only for the creation of life and nothing else.

People fell in and out of love, marriages occurred, but sex was only possible between soulmates. People who didn’t have soulmates didn’t understand the driving need to find their other half, the power of that connection, the passion and love it could produce. The closest they could get to it were through kisses, but they were nothing more than pecks; a simple way to say, ‘I love you,’ without words, and nothing more.

Without sex drive, there was no need for overt intimacy or affection. All that was left was simple companionship, and for many, that was enough. 

More baby droughts were documented than baby booms. Only once did the population hit an increase, but it didn’t last.

Soulmates were rare, and babies even rarer.

But then the age of technology came about, and babies were no longer required to gestate inside actual human beings. No, after several decades of experimentation and research, it was discovered that sperm and eggs could be harvested, and babies could be _grown_. 

And that was how the human population grew. Sex became a myth, something talked about, but never, ever experienced. Once humans started growing in labs, once the population boomed, soulmates died out. There were too many people to find that one specific person…

Until one time - _one time_ \- two soulmates found each other.

Once they were discovered, they were immediately whisked away to a secret lab in Central City where they were essentially broken down to the very foundations of their cellular structure, looking for whatever made these two people special. Nobody was sure what happened to them after that, if they produced any children, if anything ever came out of the research besides a new research project called The Soulmate Genome Project.

It was a way to find if there was a specific gene within some humans, something that could be harvested as well and reproduced in every single human being grown, and thus, the human race could learn to sustain itself naturally, without the mystical issue of finding a soulmate.

Everyone would be soulmates, everyone could procreate, and the human race could finally _thrive_.

But that had been over forty years ago, and it had yet to be found. The original soulmates who started the research died, and any other soulmates had yet to be found.

Felicity Smoak was starting to believe it was all a bunch of crap.

A story, a “legend,” told to make the fact that people were grown in labs and distributed around the world a lot more romantic than it was. Felicity believed in science, in codes, in patterns. She believed in seeing the pathway to understand how something was created, and as far as she was concerned, they had found that pathway. 

The soulmate gene didn’t exist, because if it did, they would have found it. Billions of people populated the planet now, and more were being made every single day, in labs across the earth. Even more eggs and sperm than that were harvested once a month, added to the ever-growing research pool of information looking for this one specific gene that _did not exist_.

Two people existing at the same time, able to have sex, were genetic flukes.

Why did Felicity Smoak believe this so adamantly?

Because she was a genetic fluke.

Her eggs?

Didn’t exist.

Even if she did have a soulmate out there, it was physically impossible for her to do anything about it. So if she, with all her fun genetic anomalies, existed, then there were others, which meant the soulmate gene had either been worked right out by manipulated evolution, or it had never existed in the first place.

*

“Felicity!”

“Nope!” Felicity shouted over her shoulder, tugging her overnight bag higher up on her shoulder. “I’m already late, Barry, and Dr. Wells literally _threatened my life_ if I miss another trip to Starling City.”

“Come on, your train doesn’t leave for another hour,” Barry said, sidling up next to her, his breathing heavy from running. “It will only take two, three minutes top.”

Felicity pushed the elevator button again. “Get Caitlin.”

“Iris wants you.”

Felicity snorted. “I highly doubt she specifically asked for me. I’m pretty sure this is actually you not wanting to be the one to extract her eggs. Like always.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “That is not it.”

“It is it,” Felicity said, poking him in the chest as the elevator dinged. “Just tell her how you feel, Barry. You’ve had a crush on this girl since you were, like, five. And she’s had her eggs extracted dozens of times by you, I’m pretty sure she can handle it.” She stepped onto the elevator, pushing the button for the ground floor. “I really need to catch this train. Apparently someone had some sort of breakthrough in Starling City and Dr. Wells has been riding me about getting out there to collect some of those eggs.” She rolled her eyes, imitating him, “’The soulmate gene is real, Ms. Smoak, and we’re on the brink of finding it’.”

“It is ironic he keeps sending the one person who doesn’t believe in his research to get more test subjects for him.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Felicity replied with a saccharine-sweet smile. “That’s what happens when you send a test subject after other test subjects.”

Barry grinned, cocking his head. “Do you even remember what the inside of your apartment looks like? Didn’t you just get back from Memphis yesterday? And then Coast City three days ago?”

“No rest for the wicked, Dr. Allen.” Felicity dropped her bag on the floor as the elevator doors closed, tugging her jacket on. “Now go act like the twice-fellowshipped doctor you spent half your life training to be and harvest Iris’ eggs like a man.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And hey,” he said, shouting to be heard through the doors. “Watch out for the Vigilante!”

*

The second Felicity stepped foot into Starling City, she gave a little credence to what Barry had said.

She might have been traveling a little too much recently.

A heady flush had hit her the second her heeled foot hit the train platform and the only reason she didn’t keel over right then and there was because of the rushing crowd flowing around her.

For a split second, she had the weirdest out-of-body experience, like she was floating above her body, like something was tugging her out, before she nearly fell on to an older gentleman.

She was jerked back to reality when he poked her with his cane.

The feeling followed her all the way into the heart of Starling City.

Felicity didn’t have time to get sick. She had ten different plane tickets in her purse right now, all for different cities and countries around the world, all on a mission for Dr. Wells to secure different egg samples for his research. She hadn’t been getting the best sleep recently, sure, and she had skipped some meals to make her flights - and the airlines’ idea of food was more like something decrepit rabbits ate - but she’d felt fine just a few hours ago. 

Felicity wiped her forehead, her skin clammy, taking a deep breath of the clean, sterile air that was Palmer Tech.

She’d felt better when she’d stepped into the building, formerly known as Queen Consolidated before they’d gone under after a huge harvesting scandal. For the first time since she’d gotten there, she felt like she could breathe without her head starting to spin…

But it was slowly creeping back on her.

Felicity took a shaky breath.

Maybe she should stay in Starling tonight, get a good night of sleep. She’d been hoping to make this a one-day trip, get back to her apartment at least one night this week, but she didn’t need her bed to sleep.

Another flush skated over her skin, and she closed her eyes briefly when Ray turned away from her, taking another breath.

When she opened her eyes, darkness edged her vision, only dissipating when she blinked rapidly.

Yes, she was definitely staying tonight. Thank goodness her forethought included securing a hotel room.

She’d pat her past-self on the back later.

“I was sort of hoping it was going to be Dr. Wells who came out for these, but…” Felicity shifted her attention back to lab she was standing in, looking up as Ray Palmer studiously handled the egg samples, placing them in the padded briefcase she’d brought specifically for this.

He set them in the plush pad, pressing the tiny glass cases in until securement straps popped out, wrapping tightly around the tiny glass case.

Ray’s smile was warm when he looked back at her. “But I’m glad it’s you that came.”

Felicity grinned, her lightheadedness abating enough for her to realize her heart was humming.

She liked Ray. No, she more than liked Ray. He was handsome, quick-witted and smart. They’d met in Las Vegas during a conference, after which he’d invited her and Dr. Wells to dinner.

They’d hit it off, or she liked to think they did, and judging by the rather healthy dose of flirting he was throwing her way, he thought so too.

Felicity pinched her lips, ducking her head shyly. “I’m glad too.” 

She didn’t miss the quick grin Ray sent her way before he turned back to put back the rest of the eggs she’d specifically been sent to retrieve.

Felicity checked the strappings on the eggs he had given her, feeling a moment’s reprieve in whatever cold was attacking her as she checked to see how many eggs he’d given her.

“So we’re only getting ten?”

“That’s all I can spare right now,” Ray replied as he turned back to her. His arms dropped, his hands slapping his thighs. “I’d give you more but we just opened a new wing dedicated specifically to the strand that Dr. Wells discovered last year. Those samples he sent to us were…” He paused, and the grin on his face made him look like an excited ten-year-old boy. “Pretty exciting.”

“Right. The soulmate gene,” Felicity said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “I thought you guys were more focused on the diversity aspect.”

“Oh, we are, we definitely are, except the soulmate gene plays a huge part in that, or so we think.” A thin line of interest creased his brow as he looked at her. “You don’t believe in the soulmate gene, do you?”

Felicity opened her mouth to immediately say, ‘No, of course I do,’ before she snapped her mouth shut. That was the party line, but when Ray merely lifted an eyebrow, she sighed. “You got me.”

“And yet you’re the one Dr. Wells sends on his scavenging trips.”

Felicity shut the briefcase, harder than she’d intended to. Even she didn’t know why Wells had chosen her to be his field trip gopher, although she really didn’t have much to complain about. It was better than the life she had been leading, ever since she’d turned fourteen. Or, rather, the life that had been led for her.

“Yeah, he probably assumes I won’t up and sell them to the highest bidder.”

Ray’s mouth snapped shut at that and regret washed through her chest. Just because she didn’t put any stock into it - because hey, personal experience and all - didn’t mean others didn’t. And she was annoyingly aware of the fact that she was one of the less than one percent who thought the way she did, which was a little intimidating considering their human race was rounding out at about six billion now.

“I’m sorry. That came out a whole lot snappier than I intended. I’m just not… feeling well. Not feeling like myself right now.”

“It’s okay. Everyone reserves the right to their opinions. Although you do look more flushed than you did walking in,” Ray said. “Are you feeling alright?”

He touched her forehead and Felicity jerked back like he’d burned her, because it felt like he had.

A roaring sound filled her ears for a split second, making her wince, and then it was gone in the next second.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

“Sorry,” she started when he saw the concerned rejection but he waved her off.

“You are pretty warm. Do you want to visit the medical floor before you leave? At least get a shot of some Grade A adaptive white blood cells? I just perfected for formula, they’re designed to perfectly copy your own cells, give that ol’ immune system a boost.”

“Uh, no,” Felicity said, shaking her head. No need to tell him that those things didn’t work on her. That was for her and Dr. Wells to know. “I think I just need to sleep.” She picked up the case. “I’ve been traveling pretty much nonstop over the last few weeks, I should take at least one night to get some decent rest.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were only here for one night,” Ray said, disappointment coloring his tone. 

“Yeah. I’m heading to Chile tomorrow night, and I should probably get some sleep while I can.”

“Well, that sucks,” he said with a laugh and Felicity cocked her head. “I was hoping to take you to dinner again.”

Felicity blinked, pausing. “Oh.”

That sounded nice, like really nice. Last time it had been her and Dr. Wells he invited and they had hit it off, but that had been business… but now he was asking just her.

It had been so long since she’d been on an actual date.

And she’d been fine just a few hours ago. Maybe a few minutes of shut-eye, just laying down somewhere would help, and she’d feel right as rain.

Her body had other ideas.

A heated, almost painful, flush swept through her from deep within her core.

Felicity gasped, grabbing the counter and Ray’s finger grazed her hand when he moved to help her, and the same burning sensation - like someone was dumping acid across her fingers - had her hissing under her breath, holding her hand up to ward him off. 

Mostly because she didn’t want to know what would happen if he touched her again.

Her skin felt itchy and thin as tissue paper.

“I’m fine, really. I just need to… go lay down,” she said, wiping her forehead. She was covered in a cool sweat.

“Do you want to stay here?”

“No, no, that’s not necessary, I’ll be okay.” She swallowed, looking back at him. “But I do.”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“I do want to see you again, when I’m not…” _Feeling like someone was slowly planting poison in her pores._ “Chasing you away by looking like a sick gremlin.”

He chuckled. “It would take a lot to chase me away from you, Ms. Smoak, and you actually look like a very beautiful sick gremlin.” Felicity gave him a genuine chuckle and he ducked his head to catch her eye. “Can I call you, the next time I’m in Central City?”

“Yes. Yes, I would really like that.”

*

It was worse when Felicity finally stepped outside.

The sky was darkening and it let out a low rumble, dropping a few sprinkles of rain as a stormy promise.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering against her chest plate, her skin feeling tight and prickly. She shifted in her jacket, regretting it immediately when her clothes scraped along her skin. 

“Why aren’t people like snakes?” Felicity whispered, shuddering when she shivered, her skin tightening. She would have been perfectly content to crawl right out of hers to escape the feeling.

She felt like she _needed_ something, but she didn’t know what; she’d never felt this before.

Something zipped through her body, making her feel oddly achy and hot, and Felicity’s hand drifted to her throat, her breathing becoming rapid.

What was wrong with her?

“Are you okay, miss?” someone asked and she took a quick breath, nodding.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Felicity replied breathily. She gave the person a faint smile, not seeing their face. “I might be suffering from some jet lag or something, I’m fine. Uh… do you know where I can get to the Starling City Hotel? Isn’t it around here?”

“Oh, sure. You know,” the person said. They touched her elbow, pointing a few blocks south, and she barely caught their next words over the loud rushing noise that filled her head again, all her attention on their three fingers touching her elbow. “You can cut through the alley on seventeenth and it’s right there.”

“Oh,” she whispered, jerkily taking her arm back. ”Good.” She didn’t look at them as she rubbed the spot, barely getting out a, “Thank you,” before she lurched in that direction.

Felicity wasn’t sure how she got to the alley specifically. The entire walk felt like a blur and she considered stopping twenty different times to hail a cab to drive her just a few more hundred feet before thinking that was just plain stupid.

Her clothes felt too tight. No, it wasn’t her clothes, it was her skin. Every move she made, her skin rubbed against something - against her clothes, against the people walking by, against the air. With each breath, she felt more raw; like electricity was dancing along her nerves, making her limbs tingle with… _something._

She should call Barry, or Caitlin. Or Dr. Wells. Someone.

Something wasn’t right.

Felicity reached the alley, just as the rain started picking up. She lifted the briefcase to cover her head before changing her mind. The cool rain actually helped, along with the light breeze rushing through the small space, making the moisture on her face feel even colder, which was perfect.

But each time the breeze slowed down, her skin grew hotter, like she was running a fever, but it wasn’t like any fever she’d ever felt. Felicity made her way down the alley, fumbling with the buttons on her coat to slip it open, to get more air, the briefcase barely staying in her fingers.

With each step though, the heat in her skin increased, the _ache_ inside her increased, and she… needed something, but she just didn’t know what.

Running her hand over her wet face and through her wet hair, Felicity let her fingers drag down her neck and over her chest, and a sharp shiver attacked her spine at the sensation.

“Oh,” she breathed. She ran her hand back up her chest, her breath faltering. “Okay, that’s different.”

Felicity stopped, dropping the briefcase and it landed on the ground with a loud slap. She barely heard it, the tiny voice of alarm in the very back of her head reminding her that the metal had been designed to withstand an airplane crash, it was fine. Instead, all her attention was focused on her hands - her palms were so hot, prickling, and she touched her neck again, with both hands this time, shuddering as the heat inside her transformed into something else.

_Touch._

She needed _touch._

How strange, when Ray and that stranger had touched her, it was nothing like this.

Was it only her touch?

God, it felt _good_.

Felicity sighed as she ran her hands along her neck before dipping them down her chest, over her breasts. Her nipples were hard - which this wasn’t an abnormal thing because they always did that when she was cold and wet, but this time, when he heated palms touched them, a quick jolt of pure pleasurable sensation darted through her, making her nipples tingle painfully, hardening for more.

More.

She needed _more_.

Why?

What the hell was wrong with her?

Like her hands had a life of their own, she touched herself again, and she arched into her own touch, seeking more, so much more…

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped, wrenching her hands away. She stared down at them, rain pooling in her palms, but there was absolutely nothing strange to see. They were just her hands, and her body was just… _on fire_. Her fingers started trembling as she stared at them, her breathing getting heavier.

The rain was coming down in a steady drizzle now, and she was drenched. Felicity closed her eyes, fighting to calm her racing heart, scrubbing her face before she ran her hands over her head, through her wet hair. She gasped when that shot a spark through her, sensation sizzling through her scalp and fingers.

It felt like she was alive for the first time ever. Her body was alit with awareness, awareness of everything, of the rain falling on her, of the way the breeze caressed her, how her fingers felt drifting across her hair, her skin contracting with a need she’d never felt before.

What was going on?

“Move, Felicity,” she breathed, her hands cupping the back of her neck, her face turned up to the sky, letting the rain wash over her. “Move. Get inside. Call Dr. Wells.”

Was this a side effect? How could this be a side effect of anything though?

This was… _too much_.

Felicity’s hands had a life of their own, and they pushed up into her hair, her nails scraping along the way. Felicity froze when she moaned at the feeling. 

With stilted movements, she leaned down, grabbing the briefcase with slippery fingers. Her grip was unsteady as she stood again and started walking, slipping her free hand into her pocket to find her hotel keycard. She clutched it tightly, letting the edge dig into her palm, and the pain helped calm her racing heart.

She just needed to get inside. Call Barry. Maybe she’d contracted something on the train, or something in the air here wasn’t sitting right with her. Or maybe the fact that she was a genetic freak was actually starting to catch up with her. Maybe something had pushed her over the edge at Palmer Tech, they were constantly messing with genes, and hers had always been slightly different…

Blinking rain out of her face, Felicity didn’t see him until the last second.

One blink she was alone, and the next he was standing before her.

Felicity faltered, her heart clamoring to a quick, shallow stop that made her body overly aware of the way her blood had already been rushing through her veins, but it wasn’t fear that made her stop.

It was something… else. The strange out-of-body experience came back to her, but it was so momentary she only felt the lightness that came with, while she overly aware of _everything else_.

Felicity stared at him in a daze.

The man was dressed in green leather, a heavy hood pulled over his head, making the hole where his face should be an empty black space; she couldn’t see anything. In fact, his very presence was like a giant black hole, sucking all the light around them into him until there was nothing left but shadows.

Recognition skittered across her mind as Barry’s voice filled her head,

_“Watch out for the Vigilante!”_

She should be scared. This man was a killer, if she was to believe the news reports. He’d randomly appeared less than a year ago in Starling City, going after the city’s elite, and the rumor was when they didn’t do what he wanted them to, he killed them. In cold blood. Outright.

She didn’t run.

She didn’t want to run.

No, the only thing Felicity Smoak was aware of in that moment was how much she needed to _touch_. To be _touched_.

_By him._

The briefcase slid from her fingers again, clattering against the asphalt.

In a trance, she reached out to touch him, knowing instinctively that the pain she’d felt when Ray had touched, when that helpful stranger had touched her, it wouldn’t be there.

She didn’t know how she knew, she just _knew_.

She’d never felt anything like this before, this _pull_ , this bone-deep need that was radiating through her. She felt hot, flushed, her skin on fire, like she couldn’t breathe until something was satisfied. Her insides tangled together, her heart raced erratically…

Her fingers grazed his leather-clad chest.

Felicity’s breath stuttered as the heat in her skin instantly grew hotter, but not with pain - with need.

 _Need_ like she’d never felt in her life ran through her, and she stumbled against him, eager for more, so much more, and he caught her instantly.

For a split second, Felicity thought it was just her. The man, the vigilante, stood there, a statue in the rain, his leathers soaked, a quiver and bow strapped to his back, barely even breathing. She should have been worried for her life, she should have been running, but instead he caught her when she fell against him, her frantic fingers grasping for more…

He didn’t just catch her. His trembling arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her off her feet and into his hard chest painfully, his fingers digging into her to anchor as against him, their lips instinctively finding each other.

The need inside her exploded the second their lips connected, and Felicity gasped against him, their lips parting, their tongues meeting in the middle.

Felicity had kissed before, but only chaste exchanges. Kissing was nothing more than a way to show emotion, really, there was no biologic need for kissing in her book, and the only two men she’d ever kissed were her boyfriend Chris in middle school and the only man she’d ever loved, Cooper, when she’d dated him in college.

They were nothing - _nothing_ \- like this.

He kissed her as hard as she kissed him, their mouths ravaging each other, devouring. She couldn’t get enough; she needed more, so much more. Felicity moaned, his teeth scraping her lips, stubble on his cheeks rubbing her skin raw. She gave as good as she got, and when she nipped at his lips, biting down hard enough to draw blood, he moaned.

It was the sexiest, neediest thing she’d ever heard, and it shot her need for _more_ through the roof.

He stumbled across the alley with her in his arms, crashing into a dumpster. The wheels screeched on the concrete as he pushed her against it, hard, shoving the giant metal box up against a brick wall with a loud clang, but neither of them noticed.

She grasped at his soaking wet hood, holding him closer as he hiked her up in his arms, and she wound her legs around his waist. Her tight skirt tore up the sides, ripping along her skin painfully, but she didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel anything but his gloved hands all over her, and she frantically pulled his hood back, needing to touch more of him. So much more.

His skin was as hot as hers was, and it burned her palms when she cupped his face.

He growled, the sound vibrating from his chest through hers and she whimpered in response, everything inside her melting at the sound, at the surrender she wanted to give him, at the surrender she demanded from him. He pushed her up harder against the dumpster and for the first time she felt something very hard and very large rubbing against her sex, and her hips natural rotated against it, seeking _something_ she’d never felt before… 

Fear shot through her, the fear quickly morphing into terror when she realized exactly what if his she was feeling. Something that shouldn’t be hard, something that she shouldn’t be rubbing against like she was, something that was making slick moisture pool between her legs.

Felicity tore her lips from his, shoving him back, a sob falling from her lips.

What was happening to her?

What was she doing?

What was he doing?

Who was he?

“Get off me,” she said, her voice cracking, but he was mindless, shoving his face into her neck. His lips only sparked the need for more of his touch inside her, and that need stampeding through her veins had her grasping his head closer, crying out when his teeth sunk into the delicate flesh there, his hips thrusting up against her, and something _amazing_ blossomed between her legs…

But it was too much.

_It was too much._

“No!” Felicity said, shoving him back and this time he responded instantly. He stumbled back, dropping her and she landed hard on the ground, her knees skidding in the gravel. She scrambled to her feet, pressing her back up against the dumpster, her nails digging into it to keep herself from moving. She didn’t feel the two nails that broke, or heard the jagged screech as she clawed at the metal, fighting to _not move._

Because if she did, if she did move, she was going to launch herself at him, _give in_ , and she couldn’t… _she couldn’t_.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, and tears she didn’t realize had been falling burned her eyes as she stared at him. He was crouched on the ground, his head in his hands, and she could see his shaking; it was nearly as bad as hers.

“Who are you?” he asked, the first time she’d heard his voice, and the sound tore through her. It was broken, serrated, raspy and ugly all in one. Felicity stared at him where he trembled on the ground, the rain making his leather grotesquely shiny. “I didn’t… I don’t know…”

With every ounce of self-control she could muster, Felicity slid along the dumpster. A sharp lever caught and tore at her jacket, matching the twin tears in her skirt. When she reached the edge of the receptacle, she slipped around it, holding onto the metal so tightly her fingers were bloodless, her eyes never leaving him.

For a second, neither of them moved, and the need inside her only beat harder, hotter, needing more.

So much more.

Her eyes flashed over his body, over his hands, over the powerful muscle she felt a visceral _need_ to have touching her.

A sob escaped her throat, ripping through her chest, and he looked up at the sound.

Felicity gasped, squeezing her eyes shut before she saw him, unable to see his face - it would be too real - and she threw herself at her briefcase. Her foot caught in a crack and she went down, hard, but she didn’t feel any of it.

Instead she opened her eyes enough to see the briefcase she had dropped and she grabbed it.

Shoving herself off the ground, Felicity ran towards the alleyway entrance, towards her hotel, not daring to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what this is. This was supposed to be a one-shot and then I had _ideas_.
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	2. I need a little sunshine...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this story _blew me away_. Literally. My jaw has been living on the ground. _Thank you so much!_ This was originally going to be a one-shot, and then those ideas came on, so I was planning on maybe three chapters... and then you guys expressed so much excitement for it, I had to let the story grow some wings.
> 
> There will be no update schedule for this story, unfortunately. I'm writing as I go, and I care more about story integrity than speedy updates, ya'll. I really don't think I'll be waiting too long between chapters to update, because this is my smut-writer's wet dream: the entire point of this story is sex. :P
> 
> A few of you had questions about the biological aspect - and they were very valid points - and my response can only be summarized one way: I chose to research the origin of the word 'dick' for an extended period of time rather than anything past my rudimentary knowledge from 10th grade biology. As I said with the genomes, I'm making this up as I go. :) On that note, I'm totally down for some reminders, pointers, thoughts, etc. regarding the science - help is always appreciated!
> 
> Thank you again for the awesome response, I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I am!

He listened to the rapid clutter of her heels as she ran away from him; every single inch of him screamed to move, to chase her, to take her… It was a visceral need vibrating under his skin, along his nerves, urging him after her… He knew, somewhere deep inside, that the only way to make it stop was to find her - to find _satisfaction_ … but he didn’t.

Take her? What the hell? He’d never wanted to… _have_ anyone, not like he wanted to have her…

The need simmering inside him, making his hands shake, his lungs spasm as he fought to take even breaths… it terrified him.

He felt the yearning deep in his bones, pushing him to go after her, like she was a beacon and his only salvation was within her. Everything was within her, everything he’d ever wanted in his life could be found in her arms, under her touch, against her lips, _inside her_ … 

Oliver Queen stayed crouched where he was, his muscles clenched painfully to keep himself from moving. Her ragged, “No!” still echoed in his ears, and it’d been like someone stabbing him in the face with a hot poker, the leaden fear and uncertainty in her voice.

He’d felt it too, underneath the white noise rushing through his head, but he hadn’t been able to stop.

He’d been mindless in his need to keep touching her, to press his lips all over her, touch her, taste her, have her…

What had happened? No, what _was_ happening?

His skin vibrated with the need to feel her against him again, her writhing body touching him everywhere, her tiny hands cupping his head as they kissed… He didn’t even know it was possible to kiss someone like that. Kisses weren’t anything more than lips touching, that was it. He’d kissed a lot of women in his life, almost every single one that showed him attention, but there had never been this _heat_ before, this tension, this _drive_ to find her, to kiss her, to mark her as his…

The rain beat down on him, making his already sensitive skin even more agitated. He groped for his hood - he hadn’t felt her remove it, and he hadn’t cared that she’d removed it; nothing but _more of her_ had mattered in that minute that was permanently seared in his mind’s eye - and slipped it back on. A tidal of rain water sloshed across the back of his neck and down his jacket, making him shiver. He hoped it would cool him down, reduce the heat living inside him…

But it didn’t.

If anything, it felt worse.

Oliver had felt the change earlier that night.

It was like something in the air shifted around him, and he’d become more agitated, antsier, his skin crawling with the need for action. His heart had started racing, making it hard to breathe normally; his fingers had danced along his thigh in a rapid staccato beat as he waited for the sun to set so he could suit up.

He wasn’t the easiest person to be around, he knew that; he’d thought when he’d gotten back from the island that maybe being home, being near people he’d likely grown up with, who had known Ollie Queen, would make him more human, but he’d only gotten worse.

The constant failures, the constant reminder of the scum in this city - _in the world_ … it weighed on him, pushing him further and further into the darkest parts of his soul.

People were grown to be perfect, like worker bees living in perfect harmony, but while scientists could control the biologic aspect of creation, they couldn’t control whatever made people _human_. All it took were a few bad seeds planted here and there and they spread like locust across the globe… 

It was all a reminder of his entire lack of ability to help stem it that pushed him deeper and deeper within himself until there was nothing left but the Hood.

_The Vigilante._

He’d thought maybe he just needed to get out and hurt someone, find someone hurting others and give them a taste of their own medicine, but after finding a few thugs and beating the shit out of them, it had done absolutely nothing to alleviate the pure _ferocity_ living under his skin.

So he’d gone to his next target, the next name on the list, the man who’d taken over his family’s company after Starling City had essentially pushed the Queens out and… and suddenly… his entire world had _shifted_.

To _her_.

The flush that had been living inside him, making him feel like he was being burned alive - his leathers had started to feel like they were closing in on him, slowly suffocating his pores until he’d been ready to rip them off - had intensified to a level he couldn’t handle.

_He could not handle it._

Even the air he breathed felt like it was scorching his insides with need, need for something he couldn’t explain, didn’t want to explain. All he’d wanted was to… he didn’t even know…

Until he saw her.

Oliver had nearly fallen off the roof he’d been perched on when his sights zeroed in on the unsuspecting woman where she stood in the street. He didn’t stop to ask what he was doing, who she was, why he was reacting the way he was; none of it mattered because every cell in him knew she was what he wanted, what he desired…

She was what his body was calling for, craving with such force that for a split second he knew he would do anything to get to her.

When she’d stopped to talk to someone, and he’d had to watch that someone touch her, a possessive fire had ignited in the pit of his stomach, making his muscles clench in a rage he’d never felt in his life, and that was when he noticed other parts of him, parts of him that were supposed to be flaccid as always, grew hard; so painfully hard that the feeling of his penis straining against his tight leathers actually hurt. 

There was no time to think about what was happening, why it was happening, he hadn’t cared, because all that mattered was her, getting to her. He’d hopped across roofs, shot his arrow to close gaps, gaining on her until she slipped into a nearby alley. When he’d finally landed with a silent whisper on a fire escape, she was standing in the middle of the alley, and her hands…

Oliver had watched her touch herself in a way he’d never seen before, like the simple feeling of her hands brushing across her breasts was pure ecstasy; her head had fallen back, the rain covering her in a light sheen, her mouth gaped open as she moaned… He’d never seen anything like it, but his body had reacted to it on an instinctual level, finding the sight of her palms brushing the hard peaks of her nipples so incredibly stimulating.

He’d been moving down the fire escape before he could stop himself, barely hearing her incoherent whispers to herself as she’d held her hands out, staring at them. She’d let the rain touch her, and he’d watched the tiny droplets hitting her skin in small splashes, his fingers itching to do the same, and then she’d been moving again…

He couldn’t let her go.

But something had stopped him when he’d revealed himself to her, like he was waiting for… permission. He’d waited to move, to act on the pure need skittering through him. He wanted nothing more than to attack her, but he’d paused, waiting… for her.

His fingers had physically ached to touch her, to feel her; he needed to feel her up against him, needed to touch, rub against her, do something… something he’d never felt the need to do in his life. Something nobody had felt the need to do… but he’d waited.

His dick had _throbbed_ for her, and it wasn’t strange at all in the moment… because then she’d touched his chest, looking just as dazed as he’d felt, and in the same breath thrown herself at him. Oliver had caught her, the need exploding to unbelievable levels that she felt it too, and wrenched her up and their lips had…

Oliver groaned, standing up fast, his head still clenched in his hands. His wet leathers pulled at him, tighter than before, and he stumbled back, slamming into the brick wall. He grasped himself through his pants and groaned as pure sensation radiated through him, from where his fingers cupped the heavy bulge that shouldn’t be there.

His fingers instinctively closed tighter, his palm rubbing against it, and his eyes slipped shut as pleasure like he’d never known flowed through him.

This… this was…

Oliver gasped as he rubbed himself, his mind sliding back to what it had felt like when he’d pressed himself between her legs. The same mindless, driving need filled him, and the urge to stay and continue this warred with the driving force to find her, to _use himself_ on her…

Sex.

He wanted to have sex with her, he was positive that’s what this was.

Sex was a myth, really. Nobody had sex, it was physically impossible for people to have sex. People’s sex organs were just that - organs, another thing on their body that was part of the beautiful scheme of the human design… Nobody touched themselves there and nobody wanted others to touch them, it was there purely for practical waste disposal…

Nobody wanted… _this_.

Oliver wrenched his hand away from himself, and if it was possible his dick grew even harder. Shoving his face into his hands, Oliver let out a pained moan, pushing off the wall, but he didn’t get far.

He needed to… he needed _something_.

He wanted to find her, he needed to feel her against him… but he also wanted more. He wanted to talk to her, he wanted to understand what was happening between them, to them…

Because she’d felt it too, he knew she had.

Oliver took a few steps and adjusted himself again, trying to find a way to fit the hardness in a place where there was not enough damn room. He clenched his teeth as he moved it, but… it the final straw.

A deep wicked pleasure soared through him at the light touch.

He needed more. God, he needed more.

Oliver couldn’t get his mind out of the last few minutes. It was still wrapped around where he’d pushed her up against the dumpster, and he stumbled, shoving himself into a dark corner as he tugged his gloves off before undoing his leathers. He moaned when his cock popped free. It felt fantastic, being free of confinement, and like his hand knew exactly what it was doing, he grasped himself, feeling himself for the first time.

It felt… _amazing_.

It was a thick column of hard steel covered in soft flesh, hot against his palm, and it was sensitive, so sensitive. He groaned deep in his chest as he fisted himself, rubbing it softly, gently, not sure what he was doing, what he wanted to do, why he wanted to do it… the only thing that mattered was how it felt, and he was completely helpless to it.

When his fist reached the head, his hips jerked as pleasure exploded inside him.

“Oh, _fuck_ …” he whispered, the word ending in a desperate whimper of confusion and need.

What was happening to him? He felt like he was split down the middle - one side was lost entirely to sensation, to the need to get… something, while the other half was drowning in a soul-deep uncertainty because this was… wrong, it wasn’t right, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. 

But it felt _so right_.

Oliver ran his hand down his length again and back up. Wetness wept from the tip and he jerked in surprise, pulling his hand away to look at his palm. A clear wet smear that was definitely not rain stared back at him, weird relief crashing through him at the sight.

What had he been expecting, blood?

Oliver had had his fair share of visits to the fertility clinics before the island, just like every other male in the world. He’d managed to avoid it until he was eighteen, since his family had been one of the top harvesting companies in the world, but then he’d been required by law to go in each month - being the government-recognized adult he was - to give a piece of himself away.

Everyone’s eggs and sperm were harvested, for research, for procreation. He knew enough about the way things worked that the labs didn’t use anyone’s eggs or sperm for actual insemination until at least thirty years down the line, to avoid the unstable and unpredictable emotional entanglements that came from another person walking around, sharing your traits. It wasn’t something they taught in school, but he knew about the early days of the human labs from the stories his father had told him, when some people had rejected babies created from their samples, while others had acted irrational or murderous when “their” baby had been placed with another family.

Science had learned its lesson, rotating samples and rotating babies in and around the world to avoid the intriguing biological imperative some people had an inclination towards.

It was the cold, emotionless science that had let the human race survive, let them finally thrive, and it worked.

Everyone was everyone’s family essentially, depending on each other, creating a unique sense of community that few deviated from. But those few did deviate, and they were dangerous, like the people he’d been placed with at birth, the Queens, when they’d been caught selling eggs to the Russian mob. Or people who grew up without an emotional foundation, or the ones born with some parts of their emotional cores missing… all the ones he now spent his time chasing after, just as he chased after the people in power, the corrupt ones, the ones like his parents…

This though…

Oliver stared at the sticky wetness on his palm. He’d never seen sperm before. Long before he was born, they’d perfected a tool that was inserted into a tiny slit cut in the groin to extract sperm.

He didn’t even know that this was possible.

A light breeze swept through the alley again, caressing the hard flesh between his legs, and his hand was back on it before he knew what he was doing. Oliver groaned as he closed his fist around it again. He instinctively flicked his wrist, making his hips jerk.

Was this what he’d feel when he was… inside her?

Oliver pushed himself further into the shadowed alley, leaning back against the wall, his hooded head falling against it with a dull thud as he massaged himself, the pleasure swirling deep in his belly. He tightened his fist, his muscles clenching. His lips tingled as he thought back to the way he’d kissed her, the way she’d kissed him, how they’d practically devoured each other in their need to get closer to each other.

The need thrummed to life under his skin again, and he felt his dick swell in his hands as he moved his fist faster…

He thought about her lips, about the way she’d felt rubbing against him. He’d felt the hard poke of her nipples against his chest, and how her legs had felt wrapped around him, her arms around his head, the _noises_ she’d made as he’d nipped and sucked on her neck…

Oliver’s hips moved in time with his hand as he thrust against it and he spun, shoving his face against the brick wall, bracing himself with his free hand as his mind reenacted those last few minutes. He felt himself rubbing against the shocking heat between her legs, his body knowing instinctively that was where he needed to be, where he wanted to be with every fiber of his being. And she’d rotated her hips, rubbing herself against him, _moaning_.

The way she’d gasped when he bit her neck - it hadn’t been a conscious thought, he’d needed to _mark her_ \- and his hand moved faster, his wrist starting to burn with the quick, hard exertion.

Oliver moaned, pushing his face harder against the harsh wall as he chased the pleasure down with a single-minded purpose. It built rapidly, in the base of his spine, like a hot, painful coil growing tighter and tighter. It grew hotter, the pleasure more focused, more… Oliver rubbed harder, his mind on _her_ , on what he’d felt against her, feeling _her_ , his choked moans echoing the rain still falling from the sky as he jerked himself off.

He felt her lips against his, felt her warm little body rubbing all over him, felt her hands grasping him, and then he wildly imagined those plump lips wrapped around his cock, her warm mouth that he’d already tasted touching him there, her tongue…

“Oh god,” Oliver moaned at the strange thought, his need intensifying at the vision in his mind, and he tightened his fist, rubbing faster, his fingers slipping over the head of his cock where more moisture was coming out and he went as fast as he could, imagining the heat of her mouth, the warmth he’d find between her legs… he didn’t know what he would find there, what would happen when he did, but some instinctual part of him _knew_ …

Oliver dug his fingers into the wall, his arm burning with the speed of his hand…

He came with a strangled gasp, the pleasure exploding inside him, rushing through his body as hot jerks of cum spurted from the tip of his penis, splattering across the wall. Oliver kept rubbing, prolonging the pleasure mindlessly, more warmth spilling out of him before he finally felt himself softening again in his grasp.

Gasping for air, Oliver slumped against the wall, barely holding himself up as a relaxation he’d never felt in his life swept through him.

His heart raced in his ears in time with rain beating down on him, the rough brick scraping at his face.

“What,” he breathed, his eyes still closed. He couldn’t move; he didn’t _want_ to move… “What the hell?”

That was…

But the reprieve was only momentary as the same need he’d felt earlier started to hum under his skin again. 

Oliver groaned, his dick already starting to harden and he whipped his hand away, pushing himself off the wall. He saw the white cum that had come out of him and he frowned at it, still trying to catch his breath. Some of it was on his hand and fingers, thicker than what he’d felt earlier, and he wiped it off on the brick, the rain starting to wash some of the stickiness away.

He snatched his gloves off the ground, shoving his shaking, wet digits back into them.

Oliver closed his eyes, fighting to find some vestige of control, but the slight relief he’d felt for that heady moment was already abating.

Growling, Oliver shoved himself back into his pants, already feeling the flesh growing hard again, pausing to find his breath.

The need grew in jerky spikes inside him, and the same agitation he’d felt all night grew in his chest.

He looked at where she’d run.

“No,” he whispered, closing his eyes. He shook his head. No. She had never been in Starling City, he was certain of it. He would have felt _that_ if she had been here at any time, maybe she was leaving again, maybe…

But the thought of her not being there anymore had his stomach clenching painfully and Oliver groaned, his heart speeding up at the thought, the need to find her.

No, she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave…

He couldn’t _let_ her leave.

Oliver moved, jogging towards the entrance of the alley. He knew the Starling City Hotel was right there, he knew that was where she was going. He didn’t know how he knew, and he didn’t care as he tugged his hood further over his face, melting into the darkness before scaling the side of the building he’d just… left part of himself on.

He felt the wild need to go back and wash it away - what if someone found it, traced it back to him? He’d done everything in his power to fly under the radar since returning the Starling City, and that included avoiding anyone who knew who he was; he was a ghost. He didn’t visit the clinics anymore, he didn’t technically _exist_ anymore…

It was still raining as he scaled the building, and he knew it would wash away, whatever the hell that had been. 

He didn’t want to think about it, about the utter relief that had flown through him when he’d…

Because it felt like none of it had happened as he started trembling again with the same _need_ to find _her_. What would happen when he did? Would they just attack each other again? The thought of her lips on his, the thought of his hands on her - and this time he’d take his gloves off, feel her fully - had him aching again. Just like he had been when he first saw her.

What was happening to him? What was it about her that he was chasing? 

He needed answers.

No.

 _He needed her_.

That was all that mattered.

Oliver reached the top of the building, and scanned the windows. Most of them had the curtains open, most people not giving two craps about privacy, but he didn’t see her in any of them. There were hundreds of rooms in this hotel, he didn’t have the patience to search every single one for her.

Oliver shot an arrow across the street and swept over the passing traffic, landing in a hard role on the roof. Without pausing, he stalked towards the roof entrance and kicked the door in, the lock breaking with a loud screech. He was already moving down the stairs at a steady, racing pace, only pausing once to hide when he heard someone come out and skip down the stairs to the next level.

He reached the ground level in no time, and he pulled the door open, slipping through the shadows until he reached the lobby desk. It was unmanned and Oliver slid behind it, stepping into the office just off to the side, nearly running into a man as he was exiting.

The man let out a sharp shriek and Oliver shoved him back into the office.

“I need the room number for a woman who just came in here,” Oliver said, his voice low enough that his modulator was completely unnecessary.

“W-what?” the man stuttered, falling back against his desk. He slipped on the edge, nearly bashing his head against the corner before he caught himself. “I don’t-” 

“A blonde woman just ran in here a moment ago,” Oliver snapped, and the man - Aaron, according to his shaking nametag - cowered. “Glasses, hair up, in a white jacket. Give me her room number.”

“I didn’t see-”

Oliver’s patience was already fraying at the seams and he snatched his bow off his back, pulling an arrow in the same movement, and he nocked the bow, aiming the arrow at the man’s face. The man let out a deep moan, shuddering in fear, and Oliver smelled the sharp tang of urine.

It wasn’t the first time his presence had scared someone like this. He knew his reputation. He saved people, yes, but he was also entirely merciless, violent and he left more arrows in people than anything. The fear wasn’t ideal, but it meant he got answers more often than not without having to harm anyone.

“Where. Is. She?” Oliver asked slowly.

“I wasn’t here, I didn’t see-”

“Check your cameras,” Oliver growled and the man nodded frantically, slipping into the chair. He fumbled with the keyboard, taking too long to bring up the video feed. He rewound it too far, and Oliver tightened his hold, the bow giving off a tense groan that had the man shrinking. “It was within the last ten minutes. _Find her_.”

“O-okay.”

He finally found the right time.

“Fast-forward,” Oliver snapped, the arrow aimed at the man’s throat, his eyes on the screen and the man’s trembling hands found the right button.

The tiny office was filled with tense air when Oliver caught sight of her.

“Stop,” Oliver said, and the man nearly exited out of the program in his haste. He hit play again, and Oliver watched her stumbling into the lobby.

She was absolutely beautiful, in a gentle, unassuming way. Her movements were jerky and tired, and she clenched that briefcase to her chest as she rushed in. Just seeing her on the camera sent a low rush of desire coursing through him, and Oliver huffed in aggravation, making the man jump. They both watched her - she was soaking wet, her makeup smudged, her lips bruised. Her hair hung around her shoulders limply, her skirt and jacket torn. She was missing a shoe as she raced along the edges of the room and to the elevators, luck having one already waiting for her.

And then she disappeared.

“What room is she in?” Oliver asked, and the man shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know how to access that information,” he said, and Oliver’s eyes ticked from the screen - from the elevator she’d gone into - to the man. The man cringed away from him, even though Oliver knew he couldn’t see his face worth a damn.

“Who does then?” he asked, never lowering his bow.

“C-Casey, I think, I don’t know, that’s… that’s something the manager knows and he’s not…”

“Get him,” Oliver said simply.

“But he’s not here.”

“I don’t care where the fuck he is,” Oliver said, his voice dangerously low. “Get. Him.”

The man nodded, standing. Oliver didn’t budge, forcing the man to stumble around the other side of the desk, tripping over boxes and another chair before he reached the door, leaving an acrid trail of urine stench in his path.

“Call the cops, Aaron…” Oliver said, and the man stopped cold. “And this arrow goes through your eye socket.” 

Oliver saw his hands gripping the door jamb, his entire body trembling violently, before he nodded shortly and ran out of the office.

Oliver lowered the bow, keeping the arrow nocked, his eyes on the screen. He stared at the elevator, willing her to appear again, but she didn’t. The seconds ticked by as he waited, but nothing happened… and for the first time since he’d entered the hotel, Oliver realized the beating need that had been living inside his chest, crashing in time with his racing heart, was slowly starting to ebb.

He cocked his head.

It was still there, but where it had been a startling boil at his center, a deep pull yanking him towards _her_ … now it was just a simmer…

She wasn’t in the building anymore.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the elevator opened on the camera feed and she appeared again. Oliver’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes sliding to the timestamp. Barely fifteen minutes ago. She’d changed, pulling her hair up in a messy bun, wearing stretchy pants and a huge sweatshirt that drowned her.

She still wore the glasses, which he found strangely sensual. He saw hundreds of people with glasses every day, there was nothing exciting about them, but on her…

She paused at the main counter, and Oliver’s heart stopped, realizing she’d been standing a mere ten feet away from where he was now. The man - not Aaron unfortunately - checked her out. Oliver read the man’s lips as he asked her if she was okay. Her back was to the camera feed, so he didn’t see her response, but the man’s next one was all he needed:

‘Trains leave the station up to midnight, so you should be able to catch one.’

When Aaron came back to the office with two men in tow, the Hood was gone.

*

Felicity could barely lift her overnight bag into the overhead compartment, she was shaking so badly. She stashed the briefcase first, shoving it back before trying to get her bag up, but for some reason it was just too damn heavy. The constant course of adrenaline that had been living in her since she’d ran from that alley - oh god; Felicity shook her head, shoving those thoughts away - was making everything three times as hard as it should be.

She’d barely given herself time in her hotel room to put her clothes on – she’d ripped the torn ones off and threw them away - unwilling to take a second to think about what had happened in the alley, with him, before she’d ran back downstairs, eager to get the hell away from Starling City and never return.

She was rattled. Way rattled. Like someone had dropped a bunch of quarters in her chest compartment and kept shaking her up and down, keeping her nerves in constant overdrive.

“Stupid bag,” she whispered, her voice shaking as she shoved the thing up.

A man walking by asked, “Do you need help?” and he touched her shoulder.

Felicity hissed loudly, a potent rush filling her ears, her shoulder _burning_ under his touch, and she dodged away from him.

The bag nearly dropped but he caught it, slipping it up into the compartment easy enough.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, moving to touch her arm, concern etched all over his face, and Felicity nodded quickly, stepping back.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice wavering. “For the bag.”

“Should I call someone? You don’t look so good.”

“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.” The words were abrupt and borderline harsh but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She didn’t wait to see what he did as she threw herself into her seat, yanking her legs up to her chest where she hugged them tightly, letting her head fall against the cool window.

She was on edge. She felt like anything was going to push her over, and the scary part was she _wanted_ something to push her over. In her haste to get to the train station - to get away from him, whoever he was, whoever the freaking _vigilante_ was - she’d barely let herself think about what had happened.

She’d thrown cash at the cab driver, was out the door before the car was even stopped, and she had her ticket purchased for the next train out of Starling City - it didn’t even matter where she was going, just as long as she wasn’t there anymore - when she’d been forced to wait for people to detrain.

Felicity had gone through the motions that she always did when she had to wait for a train, doing everything without actually thinking - she’d bought a bottle of water, a package of trail mix, and a random book to read on the train, just as she always because she could never have enough books, before going to the bathroom.

She shouldn’t have gone to the bathroom.

It’d been easy to ignore everything that had happened the further she got away from that alley, easy to push it all out of her head, but then she’d seen the mess in her panties, a damp stain from the slickness between her thighs. When she’d wiped herself clean, she’d been… _wet_. Some wetness was normal, it was the natural way the area cleaned itself, but this… this was…

Felicity hugged her knees tighter. She’d wiped four more time until the wet feeling was gone, ignoring the entire time how very sensitive everything down there was, how her body started tingling each time she touched herself down there, how her breasts felt heavy and achy, her skin still thin and dry and…

Felicity closed her eyes, shaking her head.

She’d called Dr. Wells and then Barry the instant she’d left the bathroom, but neither answered, going straight to voicemail. She’d left one for Dr. Wells: _‘Hi, Dr. Wells, it’s Felicity. I, um… please call me back as soon as you get this. It’s… something’s… wrong. It’s not a bad… no, it is bad, but it’s… no, it's… okay, I’m okay, but something isn’t right. I’m coming back to Central City. Well, no, I’m taking a roundabout way up to Oregon and then coming back down through Nevada, but I’m coming back. I need… please, just call me back when you get this.’_

No call back.

Nothing.

Felicity closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath, ignoring the massive wave of hysteria threatening to steamroll her.

She just needed to get away from Starling City - _away from him_ \- and then she could think again. She could breathe again. That was all she needed, she needed a second to compose herself, a second without the constant hum under her skin, the constant dull ache in her body, _the need_ , the need that she knew he would have been able to…

“No,” Felicity whispered, shaking her head.

Someone sat down next to her as someone announced something over the loudspeaker, and it still took way too long for the train to finally start moving, for the brakes to release, for it to start rolling forward, for the tension in her chest to finally uncoil, slowly…

The train inched ahead, and Felicity released the death grip on her legs, letting her body relax into the seat.

The train slowly glided forward, the people on the platforms moving by in a growing blur.

It was hypnotic, and Felicity stared at the passing people, the exhaustive edge she’d been living on since the alley starting to abate slightly, leaving her even more tired than she had been before… 

The train came to an abrupt, angry stop, the brakes slamming down.

Felicity gasped, her hands flying out to hold onto something the same time the woman next to her did and they accidentally grabbed each other’s arms. A white hot pressure burst under her skin where the woman touched and Felicity yelped, yanking it back, cradling it against her chest like the woman had literally burned her. She gave Felicity a startled look, but Felicity already had her buckle undone, was already standing as the conductor over the loudspeaker said, “I’m sorry, folks, it looks like the storm has taken out our electrical system. Unfortunately this appears to be a system-wide issue. We’re asking all passengers to please detrain in an orderly fashion and head into the station while we work on getting it back up and running.”

“No,” Felicity said, shaking her head as she looked around, her eyes catching on everything and anything that could help her _move_. “No, I need to get out of here.”

“It’s okay, hon,” the woman said, moving to pat her hand before changing her mind. The look on her face was kind. “I’m sure things’ll be up and running in no time.”

Felicity tried to give her a smile but she couldn’t. Her face was numb with fear-filled tension as she paused, her mind spinning out of control. What now? She could rent a car; if she could get to the airport then she could fly straight to Central City.

Felicity was up on her feet, yanking her bag and the briefcase out of the overhead compartment, and she pushed her way through the crowd of people, blindly ignoring the ones who protested and those who called after her until she was outside. She yanked the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head, pulling it down as far as it could go.

It was still raining, the raindrops falling with more alacrity than they had been all night, and she could see the pooling in the train tracks, on the platforms.

A streak of lightning lit the sky as she stepped off the train, and the instant her foot hit the platform, the same harsh lightheadedness that had attacked her the first time hit her again.

Felicity stumbled back against the train. Someone asked her if she was okay, again, but Felicity ignored them, pushing herself off the train before anyone could touch her.

She had to get out. She had to get away. She needed to get back to Central City, to safety, so she could find answers.

She couldn’t stay here.

Felicity hurried to a small shelter, watching everyone around her rushing back into the train station. All the trains around her were stopped, their lights on, chasing away the darkness. She watched employees walking through the trains, making sure everyone was off, while people popped open the luggage storages on the sides, others directing people towards the central hub.

Everything had just… stopped.

If the uncomfortable fear climbing up her throat hadn’t been present, Felicity would have thought this is how soap operas were made: scary rainstorm, lots of thunder and lightning, all the trains going down while something ominous loomed on the horizon…

But this was real life, and it was happening to her and nothing about it was okay.

Felicity tried to take a deep breath, but her heart was beating too fast. She closed her eyes, cupping her forehead. It was still hot, and she felt the flush starting to climb up her skin again. The same driving need started beating against her insides, a steady rhythm that had her hands shaking.

She had to get out.

Felicity stepped into the surge of people, staying as close to the walls of the station as she possibly could, avoiding anyone who might touch her. People gave her sidelong glances, but she ignored them, working her way towards the station entrance which seemed to have moved about fifty miles away from her before she remembered the train had been moving along at a pretty decent pace before it had stopped.

Her clothes were soaked through, her limbs were growing heavier by the second, and the constant tension in her muscles was exhausting. Felicity shifted her overnight bag so it was across her breasts and she held the briefcase like a shield over her chest, the station’s lit sign coming into view.

A car. She would get a car, and she would drive out of Starling City. She should have just done that in the first place.

Someone’s shoulder brushed her own and she cringed away from it, sidestepping too fast. She ran into a wall, and she cursed before pausing, leaning against it gratefully. Felicity bowed her head so her face was buried between the cold metal of the briefcase and her wet sweatshirt. Someone else brushed against her, and she stumbled away from it, following the building until she rounded a corner into a small alcove.

There were too many people. She needed to let the crowd abate, let everyone make their way to the station and then she’d go.

She just… needed a minute.

Felicity yanked her hood off, letting the rain hit her freely, and she winced, the severe downpour hitting her oversensitive skin… just like it had back in the alley.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Not… not thinking about that. Think about… think about petri dishes. Think about Gerald, my trusty Gerald waiting for me back at Star Labs. Oh, good, that’s working.” Felicity leaned against a wall, her face turned up to the rain, her mind going through the motions of a typical workday for her and it started to work…

It took her out of that moment and put her in another.

For a split second, the clothes on her back didn’t grate against her sensitive skin, the rain didn’t feel like it was cooling her down before ratcheting the heat up to blinding levels, the throbbing in her… no, no throbbing, thinking about work…

Felicity relaxed against the building, listening to the constant footsteps as the crowd started thinning out.

The rain hit her face, slipping down her neck and into her t-shirt. She shivered, her fingers starting to tingle slightly and she rubbed them together, shifting against the wall, which suddenly felt… kind of good.

Felicity licked her lips, her eyes still closed and raised a hand to touch her neck, just like she had back in the alley…

She sighed at the soft feeling, the _touch_ …

And then she clenched her fist tightly, digging her nails into her palm.

_No._

Felicity opened her eyes, blinking away the rainwater. Only a few stragglers were left, running towards the train station, and she pushed herself off the wall, pulling her hood back up to cover her head when a dark blur suddenly dropped from the sky in front of her.

Felicity cried out, a jolt of shock and startling need hit her at the same time as her mind and body processed the scene very differently.

Her mind urged her to turn and run, run towards the station, while her body instantly recognized who it was.

But the vigilante didn’t give her a second to respond.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, yanking her against him - and god, had his body been so _hard_ before? Felicity was vividly aware of everything as if the world had slowed down just enough for her to let her remember how he’d felt against her, how hot he’d been, how he’d touched her, how he’d felt under her palms - Felicity gasped… before he switched the trajectory on whatever was holding him and then they were flying up through the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (My plans for this chapter changed quite drastically based on some feedback from the last chapter. If you want to see something, or have an idea, or just want a specific scene, let me know and if I agree, I'll try to work it in eventually!)
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	3. Told you I was your light…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience with updates on this story! It means so much that you have both stuck with the story and are so excited for more. The reviews and kudos fill me with so much joy, I don’t even have words. 
> 
> I’ve decided one of my hindrances on this story is my strong desire for realism in my work - this is so not a story for realism, I’ve finally accepted that. As a result, it’s taken on a sort of Beauty and the Beast air. I'm also aiming for much longer chapters to make up for the arduous wait between updates.
> 
> Your patience with my fickle muse is so, so appreciated!

Rain sliced through his jacket like little knives. It cut through the leather and into his skin, paper-thin slashes that slid under the surface, carving him up from the inside out until every movement was pained, every breath ached, every second that slid by had his body burning for _more_.

_For her._

She was close. He’d felt it the closer he’d gotten to the train station, felt his _awareness_ of her growing, but now it was an actual physical _presence_ inside him, something that lived under his skin, urging him forward, urging him towards her.

She was so close he could _taste_ it.

The rain soaked into his hood, making it heavy and cold as he paused on the roof of one of the outer-buildings of the station. He barely comprehended the trains still stalled on the tracks, the lights flickering in time with the storm, the hum of the various emergency generators struggling to keep the power going. They filled the air with a dull drone that only made his heart beat faster. 

She was close… so close…

Water slid down his face in thick rivulets, slipping into his jacket, making the leather stick to him. His quiver was filled with water, making the strap dig into his chest, and he barely felt his gloved hands gripping his bow as he stepped up to the ledge of the building, eyes darting frantically across the crowd. 

She was down there, somewhere, he could feel her…

People were flooding off the train cars in droves, making their way towards the main building to wait the storm out. The sight of so many bodies, moving separately but migrating as one was mesmerizing… and it only amplified the thrumming desire in his veins. It was becoming more insistent, more demanding. His skin _itched_ , his lungs ached from taking too many rapid breaths, from too much oxygen flooding his system, making the world tilt, his eyes blurring as he stared at them…

She was there, somewhere… somewhere…

Oliver swayed, following the pull he felt deep in his center, the pull towards _her_ … it was the same pull that’d told him the building she’d run into was her hotel, the same one that told she’d already left by the time he’d gotten there, the pull that told him the further she got from him, the less she existed within him…

 _No_.

No, she couldn’t leave, she _couldn’t_.

The world tilted and Oliver jolted back when he felt nothing but _air_. With a startled growl, he shoved himself away from the edge of the building, stumbling back, running into a large metal box. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, the metal digging into him, biting into his back. He pushed himself off, pulling his bow up as he grabbed an arrow, shooting it into the next building.

He had to find her. He knew the second he touched her, the second he felt her under him again, tasted her, felt her, breathed her in… he’d… 

Oliver’s eyes slid shut at the memory of her, at the way she’d tasted, how he’d responded to her, how she’d responded, those little sounds she made crawling inside him, a living, growing need… 

He had to see her, had to touch her, had to be near her again.

The anxious thrum radiated through his entire body, causing him to stumble when he landed on the net building, crashing through puddles of water, his shoulder slamming into the corner of another metal box. He found the ledge and looked over, scanning the crowd, the dark clouds and flashing lightning keeping curious eyes off him as he looked for her.

She was there, damn it, but where?

He shot another arrow, jumping to the next roof through the downpour.

He was getting closer, he knew he was getting closer… the awareness of her was growing, like a beacon…

Oliver didn’t stop to think about what he was feeling, or why he was feeling it; about what was happening to him - to them - or how any of it was happening in the first place. The questions he’d been plagued with in the alley, the fears and worries and horror-laced thoughts, they’d all disappeared, like they’d been burned away, lost in the white noise of _need_.

He stumbled his way across the roofs with single-minded intent.

Only one thing mattered: 

_Her_.

He’d tasted her mouth, her kisses, her body… his teeth _ached_ at the memory of sinking into her neck, of _marking_ her. Every inch of him shook, still feeling her around him, her ghostly imprint, the way she’d moved against him, her urgency matching his own. How his body had _throbbed_ for her, how good he’d felt pressed between her legs, rubbing against her, seeking what only she could give him. The tiny moment of pleasure - of _release_ \- he’d felt in the alley when he’d touched himself, wrapping his hand around his steel hardness, the flesh so tender his eyes had rolled into the back of his head… it was so momentary, so small and useless compared to what he knew waited with her. He barely remembered how it’d felt when he’d started rubbing himself, up and down, over and over until the white hot pleasure had burst inside him.

_Ineffective._

He knew he’d felt it, but it wasn’t what he _craved_ , what he _needed_.

He needed more, his _body_ needed more; it was a physical ache that had him gasping for air, his lungs getting smaller and smaller with each passing second, the rain hammering at him as he mindlessly crawled across the roofs, searching for her.

He needed it, that release, but from her, only from her.

He had to get inside her, feel her around him, consuming him, burying him…

_Only she mattered._

Oliver shot another arrow, his body moving on pure instinct, feeling the threat of the ledge, the threat of falling several stories, the only thing keeping him going as he swung to the next building…

 _There_.

He landed on the next roof, his steps faltering with the heady rush of knowledge that she was _there_. He didn’t have to see her to know she was _right there_ , that she was…

Oliver ran into the ledge, ramming his lower half into the concrete, but he barely felt it as he looked down…

 _There_.

She stood in the rain, her face turned up to the sky, the water pelting her. Lightning flashed, letting him _see_ her and the frenzy inside him reached a fever pitch as he watched her whispering to herself, her lips moving, her skin flushed with so much more than chill from the cold rain… he could see her trembling from where he stood, his own body trembling with the same urgency he _knew_ she felt… she slowly lifted her free hand up to her neck, her fingers brushing across her skin, a soft sigh he didn’t have to be near her to hear slipping past her lips. His body hardened to the point of pure pain as he watched her touch herself, touched the spot he’d bitten. And then she made a tight little fist, that same resolve that had pushed him away before coming back… and she looked back at the crowd.

_To leave._

_No._

The arrow left his bow before he knew what he was doing, shooting it into a tall overhang of the next building and then he was hopping up on the ledge and dropping down. He couldn’t think about anything past her - _get her, take her, have her_ \- as he landed in a dark, heavy blur right next to her. She yelped in surprise, and the sound was like a delicious balm to his soul - everything about her was a delicious balm, something he needed with every fiber in his being - but he didn’t give her a second to do anything else.

Oliver wrapped his arm around her waist, yanking her against him. Her small warm body was pressed up against his and he groaned under his breath as the wild need that had been an actual living presence under his skin finally abated… before roaring back to life with so much ferocity he wanted to scream. It soothed and stoked the aching desire at the same time, a mixture that made him feel like he was going mad as she gasped…

She latched onto him with just as much ferocity as he wrapped his arm around her tighter, his fingers digging into her waist, pulling her flush against him - his eyes slid shut, the deafening instinct to shove her up against the wall right then and there nearly taking over - but then the trajectory switched on the wire his bow was tied to and then they were flying back up through the rain.

One second they were going up, the rain battering their faces as she held onto him, her face pressed to his shoulder, her fingers gripping him tightly… and the next they were landing on the roof in a mess of limbs, stumbling together until they crashed to the ground.

Oliver dropped his bow and twisted to take the brunt of the impact on his shoulder as they fell, trying to keep his arm wrapped around - _never let her go, never let go_ \- but the force threw her away from him and she slid from his grasp, her surprised shout echoing across the rooftop as she slid across the harsh gravel, rocks cutting through the delicate skin on her chin and chest, the briefcase she’d been clenching so tightly falling away.

The second he felt her slip through his fingers _again_ , a staggering madness swept through his veins.

“No!” Oliver rasped, scrambling across the small space towards her.

He didn’t care about the puddles of rain, that he was completely soaked through from the downpour, that his leathers were sticking to him so painfully it felt like they were ripping his skin off, that his damn pants were too tight from the hardness he’d had since the second he left the alley, his dick so hard he couldn’t move without feeling it…

_He didn’t care._

Oliver pushed himself off the round, moaning when he slid across the ground, sending painful pricks of pleasure shooting through his system…

All that mattered was her.

_Have to touch her, need to touch her, need to feel her around him, under him, taste her, he had to be inside her, filling her…_

She shoved the bag strapped across her chest over her head and it landed with a wet plop on the ground as she turned to him, the same mindless need staring back at him, only fueling his, making his more urgent, more dire…

_Never let her go, never go…_

But she didn’t move.

She stopped… and Oliver froze. 

_Waiting._

She stared at him, her chest heaving with breaths… and time stood still as nothing happened. Every inch of him yearned towards her - she was right there, so close, take her, _take her_ \- but he didn’t move… he couldn’t, not until she did. His hands ached with the need to grab her face, his waist burning with the memory of her legs wrapped around them, a series of pinpricks dancing down his cold chest, remembering how her breasts had felt shoved against him.

He didn’t move, he couldn’t… not until…

“I don’t…” she gasped, shaking her head, her words barely audible. She was shaking, almost violently. She tried to take a step back, tried to move _away_ from him, but it was like she couldn’t, like her feet had been welded to the ground. A tiny whimper fell from her throat and he didn’t have to see her eyes to know she was closing them as she dipped her head, _fighting_ something, something deep inside herself…

She didn’t want this, he could see it - he could _feel_ it. The pull he’d been following the second he’d lost her back at the hotel was there, tugging at him, pulling him towards her… she felt it, but she was fighting it.

It’d been pure instinct to follow it, to find her… but she was fighting it.

Oliver’s mind raced as he stared at her, trying to _understand_ the pull, the urge to get closer to her, how she was able to…

Her hands came up, her fingers curved in uneven claws that she shoved into her chest, pulling on her clothes… She faltered, and he knew exactly what she was feeling, the hard scrape of the material on sensitive skin, feeling like a thousand nails dragging over her, _hurting_ but it was _something_ at the same time… 

He felt it the instant she lost the battle.

“Oh god, oh god, I can’t… _god_ ,” she whispered desperately.

He watched her touch herself and his entire being _burned_ to do that himself, so much so he managed a broken plea, a quiet, “ _Please_ …” that was barely perceptible over the sound of the rain.

It was like the sound of his voice was all she needed. She froze, her eyes finding his… and then she launched herself at him, a move of pure instinct that had her feet sliding on the wet gravel, almost sending her down again, but this time he was there to catch her.

They crashed together with bruising force, hands groping and grasping, their mouths colliding so violently Oliver’s lip split. 

He groaned, sensation shoveling its way through him. _Yes_ … he was kissing her again, tasting her, feeling her, and it was so much more than he remembered, so much more…

They were equally mindless, equally unable to stop as he wrapped her up in his embrace, drawing her in closer, her hands gripping him so tightly it was bruising.

They only felt each other; the only thing that mattered was _each other_.

Oliver growled, a wicked wave of possession sparking deep in his stomach, spreading through him like wildfire. He kissed her with a vicious ferocity, his beard ripping at her, her teeth nipping at him and she met him every bit of the way, demanding the same submission from him that he wanted from her. Her hands were everywhere, sliding over him, tugging him closer as much as she used him to pull herself up… he could _feel_ her through his jacket, but it wasn’t enough - he wanted to rip it off, wanted to feel her hands on his naked skin, feel _her_ against him. He wanted to shred her sweatshirt, shred everything that was in his way until there was nothing left but her, her naked skin pressing against his. 

Oliver’s hands roved over her, touching everything he could - she was ice to his fire, fire to his ice, igniting and soothing at the same time, the potent combination making him touch her harder, his grip on her tightening until his fingers ached.

She whimpered…

 _For him._

God, it was perfect - _she_ was perfect. 

The tiny little sound of desperation echoed inside him, urging him on… 

_More, more, more._

She pushed herself closer, sliding on the gravel again, losing traction. Oliver hauled her up into his arms and she shoved his hood down, exposing him to the icy rain. He let out a short whine at the shock of cold, at the way it intensified the want sizzling along his nerves to the point of pain and the sound spurred her on. She kissed him even harder. He groaned at the assault, helpless to do anything but respond as she wrapped her arms around him, cradling him, nails scraping at his scalp, his neck, his cheeks…

The split in his lip burned, blood smearing all over his chin and hers, the rain washing it away in the next second. 

The kiss was hard and ugly, without an ounce of softness, and it only grew harder as their need for _more_ became more urgent, more demanding, impossible to ignore.

She bit at his lips just as he nipped at hers, both pulling and giving with equal measure.

It was _everything_ , touching her like this, _tasting_ her… but at the same time, it wasn’t enough. 

He needed _more_ , so much more.

Oliver pulled her up, making her gasp in surprise, and he shoved his hands down her sides, his palms burning from the heat he felt through her clothes as he dipped down, his neck wrenching to keep her lips on his. He wanted her wrapped around him like she had been in the alley, he wanted to feel her heat like he had, feel her pressing against him… he needed to sate the burning need deep inside him, sate it the only way he knew how: between her legs.

He gripped her thighs with bruising force and yanked her legs up, pulling her off her feet.

He didn’t think about the logistics, or how it would work, he didn’t care. The desire whipping through him was so much worse than in the alley, so much worse. It was like now that he knew what pleasure felt like, got a taste of it, got to imagine what it would be like with _her_ … he needed _more_.

Oliver picked her up and the second she left the ground, gravity tugged him backwards and they fell.

She broke away with a shocked gasp as he landed on his back, air shoving out of his lungs in a heavy gasp as his head bounced on the hard ground. He gritted his teeth, pain exploding in his skull and radiating down his spine as her hands flew out to stop the momentum, her palms sliding across the gravel, the tiny rocks slicing her skin open just as they had across her chin and chest, making her hiss and recoil…

But it didn’t stop them… because she landed right on top of him, her legs spread, the heat between her thighs pressing down against him, right where he needed her.

“Oh god!” she cried out, her back arching, her hips instantly thrusting down…

 _Friction_.

Oliver moaned as sensation flooded him.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, over and over, her hips moving faster without an ounce of rhythm, her fingers digging into the ground beside his head, her breathing quickly growing rapid and uneven as she rubbed herself against him in jerky movements. She blanketed him, her face hovering over his, blocking the rain, blocking everything but _her_ as she moved, rubbing her entire body against the length of his. 

Her breasts - little mounds his palms suddenly _ached_ to feel - slid over his clothed chest, her soft stomach against his, her lush thighs squeezing his hips…

She was the perfect antithesis to his hardness and he wanted _more_.

Every inch of him was raw, exposed, and the more she rubbed, the worse it got.

She pushed herself down harder, rubbing against the heavy ridge in his pants, the heavy ridge that felt like it was just for her, and he shuddered, pleasure exploding inside him. It was _different_ , so different, nothing like when he’d touched himself, nothing at all… 

_Better_.

It was so much better.

Oliver’s eyes snapped shut and he arched up into her, his hands flying to her hips to push her down even more, his knees coming up for leverage, anchoring his feet, thrusting up against her.

She gasped wildly, little whimpers falling from deep in her throat, her hands flying to his face. Her nails dug into his cheek and neck as they moved against each other, the friction between them growing hot, so hot… it was so _good_ , so, so good, he never wanted it to stop but at the same time… he knew, on a base, primordial level, that there was _more_ , that there was something _more_ …

That they were pushing each other towards something, something like what he’d felt in the alley, something that…

Heat scorched him from the inside out, racing through his limbs, all funneling towards his center where it grew hotter and hotter. Did it feel like this for her, was she feeling what he was feeling? Was she burning up inside like he was, was the pleasure coursing through him the same for her? Was that what she was feeling, rubbing herself against him? Were they chasing the same thing?

“Oh… _god_ ,” she whined, her voice catching, and he knew she did.

“ _Yes_ ,” Oliver breathed, holding her tighter.

She suddenly sat up and threw her head back, changing angles, her hips rocking against him with a new savagery. She cried out, her hands finding his shoulders for purchase and Oliver opened his eyes to see her, to _watch_ her, but the rain was hitting his face, blinding him; it slid up his nose, into his mouth…

He sputtered…

He wanted to see her, he wanted to see what she looked like, he wanted to see what she was doing, how she was doing it, what she was feeling… he _needed_ to, he needed to see it, to make sure she was satisfied… it was a bone-deep need, a pull, something intrinsically tied to her, something he couldn’t explain, something he didn’t want to explain…

He needed to _see_ her.

Oliver gasped, but all he tasted was fucking rain.

He let out a heavy breath, spraying rainwater everywhere, and then he sat up abruptly, wrapping his arms around her. She let out a shocked, “Oh!” as she wrapped her arms around him, instinctively moving with him as he spun them so he was on top. He knew, somewhere deep inside him, that no matter what she’d follow him, trust him, go with him…

And he would do the same with her.

The realization was shocking and grounding at the same time, sending his need for her even higher.

Oliver pinned her to the ground, barely hearing her shocked cry as they settled in a shallow puddle of water. He gripped the top of her head to keep her from moving, keeping her close as his other slid down to her hip, holding her in place - his hold was too tight, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop, he didn’t _want_ to stop… 

And she didn’t stop him. She wrapped herself around him, her hips moving erratically, seeking the friction she’d felt a moment ago, the friction they’d both felt.

He shoved her into the ground and thrust down, making her cry out.

His hood slid back over his head, sending a pool of water over them both, blocking the rain, keeping it out of her face as he hovered over her, thrusting, rubbing himself against the wonderful heat emanating from between her thighs.

She hiked her legs up even more and he settled even further against her as she spread herself open - _for him_. She was opening herself for him, giving herself to him… The thought was intoxicating and he moved faster, jerking against her jagged thrusts, pushing her into the ground, _riding her_ , seeking his pleasure in her, with her, from her, just as much as he built hers.

Her whimpers grew louder, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breathing becoming erratic.

Each sound of pleasure she gave him stoked his need for her, for _more_ , for _release_ …

It was everything he’d wanted, everything he’d needed, right here, in her arms, _in her_ …

“Oh… yes, oh _god_ ,” Oliver moaned, burying his face in her throat, his lips finding her delicate skin there… right where he’d bitten her earlier. 

She cried out, digging her face into his temple, arching her back, her hand sliding up to grip the back of his head through the wet hood, pushing him closer as she bared her neck to him.

The primal need to _claim_ roared through him and just like in the alley, his pleasure grew with alacrity, a blindingly hot burn searing his lower spine, building higher and higher, his dick swelling, becoming even harder, painfully hard…

_Bite her._

_Claim her._

_Take her._

Oliver didn’t even think - he opened his mouth and bit her again.

_Hard._

The sharp, ugly cry that left her throat cut through him like a serrated knife.

Oliver froze, everything slamming to a sudden halt.

It wasn’t a cry of pleasure, an unhinged plea for more… it was one of pain. 

_He’d hurt her._

“No…” he gasped, his urgency shifting.

His pleasure instantly disappeared and he pushed himself up, still hovering over her, blocking the rain. 

The need was gone, the want was gone, all of it was suddenly shoved to the back of his mind as every bit of his attention was on the fact that he’d _hurt_ her, that she was in pain, that something was _wrong_.

He stared down at her, his hand moving to brush hair out of her face before like it was the most natural thing in the world, needing to see her, make sure she was okay… her face was twisted in pain, her breathing off. Her chest was moving in unsteady hitches, little spatters of rain hitting her face as she let out a pained moan. 

“God, I… are you…” he started, but the words died on his lips when she opened her eyes, looking up at him.

Lightning struck again, lighting the sky up just as their eyes met, and she flinched, like she hadn’t been expecting it, hadn’t _wanted_ it. She pulled her hands away from him, curling them against her chest, turning in on herself, and Oliver’s insides curdled.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head, but that was all he had.

Her lids fluttered, her lips trembling… she was looking up at him with… 

_Fear._

Of him.

_Please, no, not like this…_

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, swallowing past the growing lump in his throat. He wanted to talk softly, talk in a whisper, because he knew how harsh his voice was, how ugly it was. “I didn’t… I don’t…” He stared at her, willing himself to say the right thing. His thumb brushed over her wet forehead. When she flinched, he pulled it back. “Please, I didn’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

She didn’t move. 

She just looked up at him.

“Please…” he whispered. 

He didn’t know what he was asking, he didn’t know what he wanted from her. 

He just needed… he needed her to stop looking at him like that.

 _Please_ …

A heavy drop of rain fell from his hood and it landed on her face, making her jump, flinching away from him even more. 

Oliver fought the urge to get closer, to burrow himself inside her, to show her he wasn’t… what? That he wasn’t something to fear, that he wasn’t something she should be scared of? 

She _should_ be scared of him. He’d chased her across the city and yanked her away from safety because he hadn’t been able to control himself… he hadn’t waited to see what she would do, he hadn’t cared. It’d only been about that moment, getting to her, touching her, feeling her.

He was a _killer_ , he wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t _anything_ …

But with her…

With her something was _different_.

But that didn’t change who he was.

He should get up, get away from her before he did more, before he lost control again.

He couldn’t hurt her, not _her_ …

Oliver’s eyes danced all over her face - her bruised, swollen lips, the deep abrasions around her mouth from his beard, the little cuts from where she’d landed when he’d dropped her, the same little cuts littering her chest. 

She was curled in too much and it was too dark to see her throat, but he knew she had a deep bruise there, accented with teeth marks.

 _His_ teeth marks.

What the hell was wrong with him? What had he been thinking, _biting her_ like that? He couldn’t explain the urge that had swept over him, taking over, the need to mark her, to mark her as his own. It was almost animalistic, the way he’d seen a lion biting a lioness until she gave him submission, showing her she was _his_.

_His?_

She wasn’t his.

_Yes, she was._

_No._

Humans didn’t _have_ people like this, this wasn’t _normal_. What he was feeling was _wrong_ , so wrong; he shouldn’t have a _need_ to bite her, to kiss her, to mark her so people knew she was his. He shouldn’t have this nameless drive inside him, urging him on. He couldn’t explain the wordless threat he felt hovering over him, like some part of him was overly aware that there were billions of people in this world… billions of males that could swoop in and take her from him. 

No, they couldn’t.

Humans didn’t do this, because this wasn’t _natural_.

But it was… at the same time, it was. 

He felt like he was coming home, the more he touched her, the more he kissed her… 

_Home._

And the first thing he’d done was hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the simple words saying so much more, barely audible over the rain slamming down around them. 

He told himself to get up, to move… but he didn’t want to, it wasn’t even an option. He was here, with her, and that was all that mattered… but not if he was hurting her, he couldn’t bear that. It wasn’t even a moral thought - it was something deep inside him, deep in his soul: he didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t hurt her. 

Not her.

But he had, he had hurt her.

And he’d do worse, wouldn’t he? Because that’s what he was, that’s who he was.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said again, like those were the only words he knew.

_Please._

_Please…_

_Forgive me._

She finally let out a short gasp of air, her breath dancing over his face as she shook her head minutely, such a tiny movement he barely caught it. He paused, waiting… and then she reached up, her hand shaking, trembling so bad it was visible, and touched his cheek. 

She couldn’t see his face, he realized, but she moved like she could, like she knew exactly where she was going, what she was doing. 

Her fingers grazed his stubble, her nails drifting over his cheek.

Her touch was so soft, so pure… and he felt like that purification was washing through him.

“God,” Oliver gasped, his voice cracking. His eyes fluttered shut, his body deflating against hers as he nuzzled her palm. 

She slid it up, cupping his face, her thumb drifting over the gentle skin beneath his eye. He settled over her, blanketing her with his body like a protective force as he turned into her hand with a soft sigh, her fingers brushing over his eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose.

It was comforting - she was _comforting_ him. It wasn’t about need or desire, this was about something else entirely, something he couldn’t even name.

She was _forgiving_ him… and it washed through him, leaving him feeling like he’d been burned from the inside out. 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like this.

Touch was imperative to humans. It communicated emotions when words failed them; it forgave or it spoke in anger; it was soft or hard, a hug or a graze… it was imperative, a driving need that humans were born with. Intimacy was communicated through _touch_. When people loved each other, they showed it with touch… and he hadn’t been touched like this in so long.

Was that part of his reaction to her? Was that why he reacted so viscerally?

But what about her? She was normal, she had to be - she talked with people, she had meetings, she was carrying things like she was on a trip. She had to have friends and family somewhere, a place she called home, people she saw on a daily basis, people she laughed with, people she loved…

People she touched, people who touched her.

So why did her craving match his? 

What was happening to them?

“I can’t… I don’t understand,” he blurted and her hand froze… but she didn’t move it away. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I…” Her voice cut off and he waited. He wanted to hear her voice again, he _needed_ to. “I don’t either.” 

Her words were soft, unsure… but so beautiful. They traveled through him, like the timbre was the key to a lock he didn’t even know he had. 

_I don’t either._

Oliver blinked down at her. 

They didn’t know, neither of them understood this… but they both felt it. They were in it together.

_He wasn’t alone._

The thought slammed into him like a freight train, nearly bowling him over with the power of it. 

_He wasn’t alone._

She softened underneath him, and Oliver sighed again, pressing against her hand more fully, pulling himself over her more. He shifted, feeling the now familiar stirrings of pleasure starting to churn again as he tried to get closer to her, to the comfort he found in her touch… 

He moved just enough so the rain hit her face. 

She gasped, her eyes sliding shut, angling her head away, sputtering.

“Shit,” Oliver rasped, pushing himself back over her, blocking it again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… it’s okay, I’m just…” She took a deep breath, lifting him slightly, and he finally felt the fine tremble traveling along the edges of her body. The heat that had been a living force between them had disappeared the second he’d bitten her - the second he’d _hurt_ her - and if her adrenaline drop was anything like his… that meant she was more than feeling the deep cold chill of the water saturating her already soaked clothes.

_Get her inside, get her to shelter._

He knew on some level that if he kissed her now, pushed his body against hers again, that heat would come back, but they were still in the elements, still outside…

The pleasure could wait.

He had to move her, get her out of the water, protect her. 

It hadn’t seemed to important a moment ago, when all he could think about was the warmth her body gave him, but the instant that cry had come from her mouth, his focus had shifted from the mindless need coursing through him to something much more primal.

_Protect her._

At first the urge had been about protecting her from him, stopping himself from doing _more_ damage, but now it was the torrential downpour that he hadn’t felt a moment ago, when her lips had been on his.

It was like the world had disappeared, like she’d become his world.

 _Protect her_.

He’d never felt anything so inherently tied to him before, but it was there, pulsing within him.

“Come on,” he said softly.

She froze again, and just like that that fear was back, her hand stiffening on his cheek. 

Oliver instantly stopped.

“We’re not…” he started, clearing his throat so his voice came out stronger. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the chance to speak so much, so calmly. It’d been so long… “We’re not… going anywhere. There’s a door, over there. It’s dry…

“I want you out of the rain.”

She let out a tremulous breath.

“Please,” he whispered.

What was she thinking? Was all he capable of was scaring her, was that all he could do? Of course it was, he was a monster. The second he’d gotten back from that island, the second he’d stepped his foot back in civilization, that’s the costume he’d made for himself, the costume he wore, the persona he’d built… the man he’d always been, deep inside…

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave her.

What if she said no? What if she told him to get away from her, to leave her alone… could he do that?

_Please don’t ask me to move, to stop, to ever stop touching you…_

He couldn’t. Everything else could wait but if she asked him to stop touching her, to _leave_ … he wouldn’t be able to do that. He couldn’t let her go, he wouldn’t… even if he _wanted_ to, there was something deep inside him, an anchor, something that had settled in his foundations.

Wherever she went, he’d go to.

The thought of her going anywhere he wasn’t, of not being able to be near her, to touch her, hold her, feel her… it was unacceptable, completely out of the question. The thought alone made everything inside him revolt, made him tighten his hold on her, made his eyes narrow with an anxious purpose.

“Please… I… I won’t hurt you. I swear.”

She blinked up at him, a torrent of emotions coloring her face, darkening her eyes… it was too dark to see anything past what the lightening showed him when it flashed, but he saw enough: struggle, doubt, fear… wonder… concern…

And something else.

She felt it too, whatever it was that was drawing him to her, she felt it inside too. She was stronger than he was, able to withstand it better… but the longer they stayed near each other, the more it grew, the more the thought of her being anywhere else but right at his side made his bones physically ache at the wrongness of it.

Oliver waited.

He’d wait forever.

“Okay,” she finally said, and he let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding. He almost smiled, but instead he just nodded. “Okay.”

In the next second, he was moving.

Oliver pushed himself off her, and he inhaled sharply at the instant whip of discomfort that sliced through him from the tiny gap of air between them. His arms shook as climbed to his feet, the shaking translating to the rest of his body.

She sat up wincing, her eyes sliding shut as if she was in pain - did she feel it too?

He reached down, pulling her up with him, and the second she was flush against him again they both sighed, leaning into each other.

Oliver closed his eyes, pressing his face into her hair, holding her close.

He was okay, as long as he didn’t stop touching her. Whatever had shifted, whatever had changed, it had pushed the needy urgency from earlier to the back of his mind… it was still there, but it wasn’t as _demanding_.

“Come on,” Oliver whispered.

*

Felicity shivered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer as he walked them to the door marked ‘Stairs’ in big, blocky letters. 

She wasn’t sure if the shivers were from the cold or from him, from him touching her, from the adrenaline - or rather, the lack of it - or from the pain of his teeth sinking into her neck… 

Either way, she didn’t care, because the closer she pushed herself towards him, the more she burrowed against his chest, the less she felt them, like his body was soaking them up, carrying the shivers for her.

It wasn’t even a thought really - her body just moved towards him, like it was second nature, like he was where she belonged, he was…

 _Home_.

The word made her chest tighten so much she couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t have a home, she didn’t have a place, she never had… but here, with him…

Something had _changed_ , when he’d grabbed her downstairs, pulling her up with him. She’d tried to fight it, but it’d been too powerful. The _need_ had been too powerful, too encompassing - it wasn’t something outside of her, it was _her_ , it was within _her_ … and she’d given herself over to it completely, and it’d felt so good, so right.

But what was it? What was happening? What had happened to her the second he’d appeared? He’d grabbed her, and then they’d been flying up… his touch had been like an ignition, unlocking the flood of want and need she’d been battling ever since she ran in the first place, and it’d been too much… she couldn’t have fought even if she’d really wanted to. She’d tried, because this… it was _terrifying_ , but it also felt _good_ , so good, so _right_ … 

There’d been no choice but to give in.

And she was _glad_ … but she couldn’t _understand it_.

Felicity couldn’t _think_ with him right there.

Everything before his sudden reappearance felt like it was a million years ago. The alley was clear as day, when he’d been there, but the running, the stark fear she knew she’d felt, the confusion and worry, the train, the way it felt when other people had touched her, when the rain had touched her…

It was all fuzzy, faded. 

What she’d felt when she’d pressed herself against him… it’d become the only thing that mattered. Only he mattered, only the pleasure that he could give her, that his body could give her. The need had been too strong, too much for her to ignore. She couldn’t stop, she hadn’t wanted to stop, because the way he’d made her feel…

_Intoxicating._

It’d coursed through her veins, growing hotter and hotter, more powerful, something she’d never felt in her life. It was addicting and painful at the same time, frightening and horrifying, thrilling and glorious… it’d left her spinning, and she’d given into the sensations without an ounce of hesitation, let her body take over, just _let go_ …

When he’d rolled them over, hovering over her, shoving her into the ground with the power of his movements…

Felicity whimpered at the memory, her eyes slipping shut, the low throbbing desire starting to make itself known again, now that the fear was abating.

_The fear._

He heard her, and he tightened his hold on her as they reached the door.

What happened next? They had to figure this out, figure out what was happening to them, _why_ it was happening to them. She had to call Dr. Wells, Barry, Caitlin, anyone…

She could still feel him over her, feel the power of his presence surrounding her as he’d _thrust_ …

But then he’d bitten her, just like he had in the alley, like it was some instinctual thing for him, but this time it’d been _harder_ , and he’d nearly sliced through the skin with the strength of it. Her neck throbbed, feeling his teeth marks perfectly, the pain still there but it was dulled, less urgent. She’d cried out - in pain, yes, but also something else. It’d carved something primitive open inside her, splitting her like a ripe melon, and she’d just… _surrendered_.

Some calm, logical part of her equated it to a mating ritual… like when the male chased the female, subduing her…

But then he’d stopped.

Because he’d hurt her.

_He’d stopped._

Felicity shivered again. It’d been so base, so… _animalistic_ , but it’d all stopped when he heard her cry out, when he realized what he’d done, and when he’d pulled back…

She couldn’t see his face, but she’d _felt_ his remorse.

She literally felt it inside her, and she’d known that he hadn’t meant to hurt her, that he hadn’t wanted to…

That it was the last thing he’d wanted.

_Oh god, what the hell is going on?_

He - the Vigilante, the Hood, the man terrorizing the dark underbelly of Starling City, the man who had _killed_ people - with arrows and his bare hands - the man nobody could put a face to, the shadow nobody dared go near or talk about, the man whose reputation preceded him with such deftness that people from hundreds of miles away knew he existed, those same people warning each other before they came to Starling City… he was holding her so gently, cradling her, like she was the most precious thing in existence. 

And she felt _safe_.

He wouldn’t hurt her.

Felicity’s stomach hollowed out at the thought. She couldn’t explain _how_ she knew it, but she did.

What was happening to them? What was this?

He tried the door.

It was locked.

Of course it was locked, this was private property, this was an emergency stairwell for the building, not for people to randomly break into. But before she could suggest they go somewhere else, he stepped back, turning her away slightly, and viciously kicked the door in with a single hit, a hit that had so much power behind it, it _bent_ the metal. The lock gave with a loud groan and he kicked it again, forcing it open, the sound of her shocked yelp getting lost in the rain and the sound of the door breaking.

He ushered her in first, pushing the door open enough to make room, never letting her go, sliding in behind her, shoving it shut again.

It was warm and dry in the stairwell, the emergency lights blindingly bright compared to the darkness outside.

Felicity winced, turning away from them, instinctively pushing her face into his chest…

That suffocating _need_ she’d felt, the one that’d only grown, that one that had shoved her into a pit of despair on the train, the one that had made her skin feel like it was going to peel off when someone else touched her… it was subdued. The longer she stayed in contact with him, the less pressing it was. It was still there, but it was like something else had taken precedence.

 _Her safety_.

Felicity shuddered and he looked down at her.

His hood was up still, covering his face, heavy with water, dripping…

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

His voice was so soft, like a whisper, but it was also rough, harsh and ugly, like his voice had been dropped into a shredder… like he never used it. 

Felicity swallowed, not sure how to answer that. Her glasses were fogging slightly, the lenses covered in raindrops, but she didn’t move to wipe them as she tried to see into the darkness where his face was - her fingers ached to reach up and push the hood back, so she could see his face, see _him_ \- he could see her, she had to see him - but she didn’t, and she didn’t know why. 

Because he wanted it up? Because it kept a line of anonymity between them? Something that made this entire thing less real?

She hadn’t even taken a second to wonder _who_ he was.

God, was she dreaming? Was this even real? Had someone given her drugs at some point today?

But it felt real.

 _So real_.

The sound of the rain hitting the rooftop of the stairwell, slamming into the ground outside filled the gaps of silence between them.

He waited.

Felicity nodded and when he didn’t speak, she wiped rainwater from her mouth with a shaky hand and nodded again. 

“I’m okay.”

He shuddered when she spoke, making her mouth dry, her stomach drop. He took in a deep breath… and then his shoulders dropped as he leaned towards her.

Felicity stiffened, just enough for him to feel it and he stopped before their foreheads could touch. 

He didn’t move, and neither did she; they just stopped. He was hard, so hard against her, and so _tall_. She’d been wearing heels the last time, she’d been closer to him, but now he towered over her, that same black hole sensation coming back to her as she stared up at him. 

Nothing else in the space existed but him. 

His breath was hot against her face, slow and even… his hands on her back tightened, his fingers digging in…

She should be scared. She _knew_ she should be scared… but she wasn’t.

Felicity wanted to say something - anything - but her mind was blank. 

She had no idea how she was supposed to act, what she was supposed to say, or… anything. 

Questions. She had questions. Concerns. So many of them… but there was nothing at the same time.

What was this, what were they doing? What had happened out there, what had she been feeling? What had he made her feel?

He’d made her feel _good_.

Felicity’s breath hitched, feeling a sudden stark awareness of the way her mouth hurt from his stubble, her lips feeling twice their size from his kisses. They were swollen, bruised… parts of her hurt and throbbed, parts she’d never been aware of before. Her breasts were heavy where they were pressed against his sternum, her legs shaky… the more she thought - the more she forced herself to step back mentally, to take a look at what was happening to her - the more she felt her insides starting to twist, her intestines tangling as the same fear that had swamped her in the alley started coming back.

She’d felt it, for a split second, on the ground below, when he’d appeared - the urge to run, to hide, to get away from whatever he was making her feel, but now…

The logical part of her that was struggling to the surface told her to listen to those instincts - _get out_ \- but it was buried too deep under… she didn’t even know what.

She didn’t want to leave his side, she didn’t want to stop touching him, stop feeling him… 

_She couldn’t_.

The strange out-of-body experience that had been hitting her ever since she stepped foot in Starling City attacked her again, and she really did feel like she was dreaming.

Felicity’s hands were moving before she knew what she was doing. 

She reached up and cupped his face again, cradling him between her palms.

He sighed, his entire body melting against her. Her heart tripped over itself as she struggled to breathe at the way he leaned into her, the way he nuzzled his face against her, his arms holding her tighter.

She felt like something small, something helpless against the incredible force of a predator… a predator that wanted nothing more than to _protect her_. 

One of her hands slid over his featureless face. His eyes slipped shut when her fingers passed over them, feeling his eyebrows, his smooth skin; he was _hot_ , like he was running a fever… She slid over his nose, his beard, his strong jaw, back up to his lips. His mouth was just as swollen as hers and there was something wet, a cut on his lip…

He grunted when she brushed over it, and she jerked away, her stomach clenching in alarm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… did I hurt you?” she whispered.

She _felt_ his eyes on her, and she gasped, her hands stilling.

“You could never…” he started, his lips moving under her fingers, his gravelly voice cascading through her… 

Even his _voice_ … 

He paused, and she stared up at him, waiting, his words echoing in her head. 

_More… please say more…_

“No,” he said, shaking his head and her hand dropped, sliding down to his neck. She pressed her fingers against his throat, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he said, “Not like I hurt you.”

Felicity furrowed her brow.

He cocked his head before he slid a hand up her side - it left a trail of fire along her nerves as he moved, reaching her neck. She felt the heat of him through his gloved hand, strong fingers titled her head so he could see the mark he’d left on her. She didn’t hear the rumble in his chest, she _felt_ it as he got a look at what he’d done to her.

His touch faltered for a second, a quick second…

Her eyes never left him as he ran his index finger over the mark, making her shiver, a little whine escaping her before she could stop it - not that she would have. She _wanted_ him to hear it. Felicity didn’t miss the way the air around him seemed to darken, how his fingers tightened.

“Can I…” he breathed, stopping himself like he didn’t know what he was asking. 

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding, knowing exactly what he was asking.

He growled deep in his chest and pulled his hand away, shoving his finger between his teeth. He ripped his glove off, the leather falling to the ground in a wet heap and then his hand was back on her, touching her… skin-to-skin.

It was like throwing a match on a pile of dry kindle. 

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped, her back arching, shoving herself closer to him just as he pushed himself against her, walking them backwards until her back hit the wall. She didn’t feel the hard concrete against her back, or the way her head bounced off it - all she felt was his hand on her neck, his touch on her… 

She’d thought her own touch had felt good, but this…

With a vicious rush, her need for him came back with a vengeance.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed and he froze. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered and the deep well of pained regret in his voice made her even more frantic for him to not stop.

“You won’t.” She cupped his face, pulling him closer. “Please… please touch me. Touch me… Please…” 

It was like a flip _switched_ \- gone was the soft gentle touches, the gentleness between them, the easy curiosity, the simple existence. She was suddenly back in the alley, back outside, back when she’d needed him with every fiber of her being, when all that had mattered was _him_ \- touching him, feeling him, her body _aching_ … 

He gave her a tiny sound of surrender…

They attacked each other at the same exact moment. 

Felicity grasped his face, her fingers gripping his collar, pulling him down just as he slid his hand to the back of her neck and angled her head perfectly, his lips coming down on hers. Her sharp heady moan rumbled against his lips, and he gave her one of his own, shoving her back up against the wall. 

She tasted him - all of him, it was everything she needed and more. There was a light tinge of copper that instantly disappeared when he angled his head, deepening the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She met him with equal ardor, wrapping her leg around his, needing him to give her what he had outside, what they’d lost when he’d…

The second she lifted her leg he dropped his hand down and gripped her knee, hiking her up higher. Felicity keened against his lips, arching her hips towards him. He swallowed the little noises she made, groaning, almost like he was asking for more as he pulled her leg up higher, exposing more of her to him.

Felicity wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled on him, pulling herself up. He was perfectly in-tune with her, leaning down just enough to slid his hands under her bottom and he lifted her up, anchoring her against the wall, right where she…

“Aah!” Felicity cried, breaking free, her head rocketing back. It crashed against the concrete as he gasped out a broken, “Oh fuck,” against her throat where he buried his face, one arm hooking her leg in, the other sliding up, cupping the back of her head. It was the hand without the glove, and his bare fingers slid through her wet strands, getting tangled, scraping over her scalp and _god_ , it felt so _good_.

Everything felt so _good_.

He thrust up, his hips moving without rhythm as he rubbed himself against her, rubbed the hardness in his pants against her. 

Felicity vaguely heard the cries coming out of her mouth, heard them echoing in the tiny stairwell, bouncing against the walls and back at her, but she was too consumed with sensation to marvel at them. She’d never made sounds like that before, she’d never heard sounds like that before… they were mindless, so pure and honest… a perfect representation of what he was making her feel, what she was making him feel.

His cries started to echo her own as they moved against each other.

He pushed her harder against the wall, nailing her to the concrete as she thrust up into her, rubbing over every inch of her. There was one spot… one spot that made everything turn white with pleasure around her when he hit it. He rubbed against it over and over as he rotated his hips and Felicity dug her nails into his back, her hips moving to meet his.

“There, there, there…!” she heard herself crying, her voice carrying down the stairs. She wasn’t sure he heard her, wasn’t sure he _could_ hear her because the way he moved, the way he cried out, he was as mindless as she was… but he did. It was like her voice, her direction, spoke to something deep inside him and he moved exactly as she asked, right where she needed it.

God, she _needed it_ , she needed it so badly she wanted to _scream_.

He thrust over and over, right against that spot, her pleasure jerking up in higher spikes. She never wanted it to end, she never wanted it to stop. It was ecstasy, pure and simple, flowing through her veins. It was fire crawling inside her, flowing through her straight to her center where a heat that felt as hot as the sun was starting to grow. It was building, the pleasure, building into something that was so much more, so powerful, so _full_ … 

His cries grew louder, more erratic, his hips jerking against her even harder. He pinned her to the wall with his chest as his hips moved back and forth, like he was thrusting _into_ her, not _against_ her… and she felt every bit of it as his hips pinioned, felt it like he was inside her… the pleasure ebbing and flowing between them, like something linking them together…

She could _feel_ him…

The pleasure inside her suddenly peaked, and the sun in her core turned into an inferno that took over _everything_. 

Felicity went silent just as he shouted into her neck, his entire body stiffening, his hips rubbing against her with so much veracity it pushed her over an edge, an edge she didn’t see coming, an edge she couldn’t expect. The heat inside her _exploded_ , sending waves of pleasure slamming into her. 

Felicity gasped for air, grasping at him, feeling like she was drowning in the sensations swamping her, pulling her under… to where? What was this, what was happening to her? She’d never felt this before, never felt anything this powerful before, never felt… 

White sheeted over her eyes and she could do nothing but hold onto him as she flew, as she got lost in the waves, as she cried out, her body undulating against him. 

He moved against her at the same time, his whimpers echoing his jerky movements… until he couldn’t hold her anymore. 

His legs gave out and they slid to the floor together. 

He was trembling, his breath hot on the damp skin of her neck. His fingers gripped her rhythmically, keeping her close, cuddling her against his chest as he fell into the corner of the landing, pulling her down with him. 

Felicity was _tired_.

It wasn’t a bad tired, it wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt. It was something else entirely scouring through her system. Satisfaction filled her. It was bone-deep, ripples of it radiating through her. She hummed, curling into him, hissing when the sensitive area between her legs rubbed against him again, sending a sharp aftershock that made her cry out.

She was floating in a soft haze, something with tendrils that kept wrapping around her, almost as tightly as his arms were wound around her, keeping her under…

Everything was sensitive, everything hurt, but in a good way… like nothing she’d ever felt before. There was a deep-seated calmness inside her all of a sudden, a calm that cradled her, a calm he’d somehow given her, one she never wanted to leave.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long they sat there, wrapped around each other.

One second there was just them… and then suddenly the lights around her grew dim.

He stiffened, his arms tightening to the point of pain and she gasped.

“Hey!” a heavy voice shouted. “What are you doing to her?”

Felicity jerked up, alarm and horror and fear racing through her system - someone else was there - but _he_ was already moving. He twisted, shoving her into the corner without preamble, _shielding her_ , and then he was on his feet.

“You get away from her! I called the cops!” the voice continued and the alarm and fear in his voice shot through Felicity like a knife. 

“What?” she whispered, pushing herself up, using the corner as leverage.

And then she saw it.

Rather, she saw _him_.

Dismay washed through her, eradicating every inch of peace she’d just felt as she watched him - the Vigilante, the Hood, the man who was a _murderer_ \- walk up to the guy and wrap his hand around his throat.

“No!” the guy shouted just as she screamed, “No!” 

Their voices combined with a grisly accuracy until it sounded like they were one as the man twisted, wrenching himself out of the vigilante’s grasp. He was small, wiry, and he tore himself free just enough to slide under his attacker’s arm, diving right for her. 

“No, don’t!” Felicity shouted, and she had no idea which one she was talking to as the guy grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the stairs.

He was saving her - he _thought_ he was saving her, and she knew this, but she couldn’t control the sudden revolt in her body, the sharp painful stab where he was touching her, the pain that made her cry out and try to break free of him the second he started yanking on her.

It was pure instinct when she shouted for him to let go, her words laced with a self-preservation she couldn’t even begin to understand...

It was quickly followed with a stinging regret when the man in green leather - the man who had touched her so gently, made her feel something so amazingly good, made her feel so protected and safe - was suddenly there, yanking the guy off of her with a vicious, _“Get away from her!”_

And then he tossed him over the railing of the stairs.

“No!” Felicity shouted.

She scrambled to the railing as the guy slammed into the opposite wall, his head hitting it with a sickening crunch before he fell to the ground, landing on his leg, which was twisted at the wrong angle. 

She heard the snap of his bone followed quickly by his scream of pain.

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped, bile crawling up her throat at the sight of blood on the wall, the man grabbing his leg, the screams coming from him almost inhuman… and then she saw _him_ moving for her again.

A very, very different self-preservation slammed into her. 

Felicity moved with more speed than she ever had in her life. The Hood was turning towards her, moving towards her, and where before she’d wanted nothing more than to go to him, for him to come to her, to hold him, to feel whatever it was that he made her feel… now she wanted to run.

He was a _killer_.

A _murderer_.

He was a _monster_.

“No!” she shouted, scrambling across the metal floor for the door, the _broken_ door, the one he’d kicked in without a second thought, with a strength that had been so intoxicating a moment ago… now it was horrifying.

His hand slid over her arm, gripping her sweatshirt but she tugged away, falling headfirst into the wall.

Pain exploded across her skull, but she didn’t let it stop her as she pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the door, wrenching it open.

“No!” she heard him shout, but she was already falling outside, scrabbling over the wet gravel to get away from him. “Come back!”

He’d touched her with those hands, those hands had made her feel so good, those hands that had just picked up an innocent man and thrown him like he was nothing. The crunch of his head hitting the wall echoed in her mind as she tripped over her feet, running outside, her heart pounding, blood rushing through her as the rain instantly soaked her all over again. Her sex was slick with what he’d done to her, what he’d made her feel, and it made her sick as she spotted her bag and the briefcase.

Felicity dove for them.

He was right behind her - she heard him, heard him chasing her.

She didn’t think that there was nowhere to go, that she had to get back around him to get back downstairs, that she had to get downstairs if she was going to get away from him…

Felicity moved for the briefcase, the irrational thought that if she touched something normal, held something that was _normal_ in her life that she’d wake up from this dream, wake up from this dream that had quickly morphed into a _nightmare_ , that none of it would be real, that everything would be the way it was supposed to be.

Instead her foot caught on the corner of a large metal vent, tripping her, and she cried out, falling right onto the metal briefcase, the sharp edge slamming into her forehead. 

Another intense shot of pain burst inside her head and then… darkness.

*

Harrison Wells watched the security footage, a small smile on his face as the Vigilante picked the man up and threw him over the railing like he weighed absolutely nothing. 

It was _perfect_ \- the terror on the man’s face, Felicity in the background, her hand covering her mouth in shock as she watched it happen…

 _Perfect_.

Wells pushed the stop button right as the hooded man started chasing her out of the stairwell and hit rewind, going back a few seconds to when the Good Samaritan had appeared, shouting, looking for all intents and purposes like he was the hero coming to the aid of a woman being attacked. He watched as the Hood - as _Oliver Queen_ \- shoved Felicity into the corner, looking for like he really was hurting her, like he was kidnapping her… 

Wells watched him attack the man again, watched Felicity screaming, her eyes wide with terror before she looked up at the Vigilante… and then she ran, the Hood chasing her back outside.

“Perfect,” Wells whispered, his smile growing, his chest tightening with anticipation as he clipped the video with just the attack, and with a few clicks on the keyboard, he had it attached in an anonymous, untraceable email, going to every major news outlet in Starling City.

 _‘Message Sent!’_ blinked at him on the screen and he leaned back.

He couldn’t have planned this better himself.

Starling City was the key. It’d only taken decades for his work to come to fruition, ten long years of sending her everywhere he could, hoping to find him… but now it was happening - _finally_ \- and it was better than anything he could have wished. The reputation of the Vigilante was everything he needed to get them secluded, to get them away from the rest of humanity… 

Wells brought up the security footage from the hallway, from the second Oliver Queen kicked the door in, a trembling Felicity in his arms gripping him just as tightly, and hit play. There wasn’t any sound on the cameras, but he didn’t need any to know what was happening between them.

His eyes slid over to his other computer screen and he hit play on something else…

Felicity’s voice suddenly filled the entire room. 

_‘Hi, Dr. Wells, it’s Felicity. I, um… please call me back as soon as you get this. It’s… something’s… wrong. It’s not a bad… no, it is bad, but it’s… no, it's… okay, I’m okay, but something isn’t right. I’m coming back to Central City. Well, no, I’m taking a roundabout way up to Oregon and then coming back down through Nevada, but I’m coming back. I need… please, just call me back when you get this.’_

Wells leaned back in his wheelchair and steepled his fingers as listened to the voicemail over and over, watching the scene in the stairwell play out… he watched the steady progression, the whispered words, how close they stood… their touches, the physical reactions unlike anything he’d ever seen in his life… and then it was like something snapping and he had her pushed up against the wall, their bodies moving together in a way that looked old as time, but was utterly foreign…

 _Soulmates_.

 _This_ was what he’d been waiting for, this was the key.

Just a little bit longer and then he’d have it.

And then he could go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I’m all out of sorts with this story - please let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


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